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IV  r 


•    GIFT   OF 
MARY  JVCKSCH 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 


m 

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Frontispiece 


Fifty  Years  in  Oregon 


EXPERIENCES,    OBSERVATIONS,  AND    COMMENTA- 
RIES UPON  MEN,  MEASURES,  AND  CUSTOMS 
IN  PIONEER    DAYS  AND  LATER  TIMES 


BY 


T.  T.    GEER 

Formerly  Governor  of  Oregon,  and  one  of  her  native  sons 


NEW  YORK 
THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1912 


Copyright,  1912,  by 
THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


TO   MY   BELOVED  WIFE 

ISABELLE 

THIS   BOOK   IS  AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED 


25795(> 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING     PAGF. 

Portrait  of  T.   T.  Gecr Frontispiece 

Larch  Trees — Average  Height  200  Feet — l-'orests  of  Oregon...     50 

State    Capitol,    Salem,    East    Front 72 

Mt.    Adams,    Five    Miles   in    the    Distance 120 

F".  X.  Matthieu,  George  H.  Himes,  Secretary  of  the  Oregon 
State  Historical  Society,  and  the  Author,  May  2,  1900, 
Locating  the  Site  of  the  Famous  Meeting  at  Champoeg 
on  May  2.    1843 188 

Dedicating  Champoeg  Monument,  May  2,  iqot,  F.  X.  Matthieu 

Holding   the   Flag 200 

Wallowa  Lake  as  It  Appeared  in  August,   1875 280 

Farm  Scene  in  Oregon 412 

Cartoon  hy  Homer  Davenport  Sent  to  the  Author  From  New 
York  When  He  was  Elected  Governor  in  June,  1898,  Never 
Before    Published 448 

Crossing  Crater  Lake  to  "Wizard  Island"  in  August,   1902....  488 

Scene  in  Hood  River  Valley.     Mt.  Hood  Twenty  Miles  Away..  512 
The  Author  and  His  Wife  on  the  Summit  of  Mt.  Adams,  July 

26,   1902,   13,000  Feet  Above  Sea  Level 518 

Ascending    Mt.    Adams 530 


Fifty  Years  in  Oregon 


CHAPTER  I 


Although  I  have  selected  "Fifty  Years  in  Oregon"  as 
the  title  of  this  book,  my  actual  residence  in  the  Beaver 
State — and  on  the  planet — began  sixty  years  ago  to-day. 
The  opening  sentences  of  this  chapter  are  being  written 
on  March  12,  191 1,  the  sixtieth  anniversary  of  an  event 
which,  if  it  had  not  occurred,  would  have  materially 
changed  my  plans  in  many  respects.  I  am  not  an  Oregon 
pioneer  in  the  sense  that  I  pioneered  myself,  or  was 
pioneered  by  somebody  else,  into  this  great  and  wonder- 
ful part  of  Uncle  Sam's  domain  in  the  days  when  it 
required  a  vast  amount  of  courage,  self-reliance,  and  a 
certain  degree  of  recklessness  of  consequences,  to  aban- 
don the  comforts  and  safeguards  of  civilization  and 
start  on  that  dil^cult  journey  of  over  two  thousand 
miles.  For  those  brave  souls  came  to  a  country  of 
which  they  had  little  reliable  information,  and  the  way 
led  through  deserts,  plains  and  mountains  yet  without 
roads,  or  even  decent  trails,  and  inhabited  by  roving  and 
in  many  instances  savage  Indians. 

When  my  parents  crossed  the  plains  in  1847,  J^^  single 
people — they  first  met  while  on  that  journey — the  only 
settlement  of  men  and  women  who  really  intended  to 
become  pemianent  inhabitants  of  the  Oregon  country 
had  been  established  here  but  four  or  five  years.  When 
F.  X.  Matthieu.  an  honored  pioneer  who  is  still  living, 
arrived  in  Oregon  in  September,  1842,  he  found  very 
few  others  here  except  the  Methodist  missionaries  and 
members  and  employees  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 
The  former  were  dominated  by  the  single  purpose  of 


8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

civilizing,  converting,  and  educating  the  Indians,  and 
had  no  fixed  intention  to  reside  here  permanently.  The 
Hudson  Bay  people,  on  the  contrary,  were  firmly  estab- 
lished, and  were  quite  averse  to  the  coming  of  any 
settlers  lest  the  building  of  homes  and  the  cultivation  of 
the  soil  interfere  with  the  propagation  and  growth  of 
fur-bearing  animals.  For  this  reason  they  were  bitterly 
opposed  to  the  location  of  the  pioneers  along  the  streams, 
or  for  that  matter  elsewhere. 

The  first  real  immigration  to  Oregon  was  that  of  1843, 
when  the  Waldos,  the  Applegates  and  others  of  their 
splendid  mold  bade  good-by  to  "Old  Missoury"  and 
other  States  which  were  then  in  the  "West"  and  started 
for  that  far-away  region.  Senator  Benton  had  already 
kept  it  before  the  public  mind  for  quite  twenty  years, 
knowing  little  of  its  characteristics  or  possibilities  except 
that  it  was  farther  west  and,  therefore,  must  of  necessity 
be  a  more  desirable  habitat  for  human  beings  than  any 
spot  to  the  east  of  it! 

For  that  is  the  spirit  which  for  thousands  of  years 
has  controlled  the  movements  of  wandering  mankind. 
Human  history  does  not  record  a  single  great  movement 
of  people  to  the  eastward  in  any  country.  Instinct 
appears  to  have  driven  them  with  the  sun  in  its  daily 
travels.  Of  course,  there  may  be  a  more  philosophical 
and  better  solution  of  the  fact,  but,  if  so,  it  has  not  yet 
been  discovered.  Besides,  as  a  general  rule,  instinct  in 
the  average  man  or  woman  is  a  safer  guide  many  times 
than  are  the  results  of  prolonged  investigation. 

The  first  emigration  mentioned  in  either  profane  or 
sacred  history  is  an  account  of  how  Cain,  after  slaying  his 
brother  Abel,  moved  to  the  Land  of  Nod,  East  of  Eden. 
This  so  thoroughly  disgusted  people  that  from  that  day 
to  this  everybody  else  has  been  going  West. 

At  any  rate,  pioneers  have  always  gone  West,  even 
long  before  Horace  Greeley  promulgated  what  he  gave 
out  as  a  new  philosophy.  Indeed,  generations  before 
that  his  own  ancestors  had  set  an  example  which  alone 
prevented  his  being  a  noted  Englishman  instead  of  one 

i 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  9 

of  America's  most  eccentric  and  forceful  tliinkers  and 
writers. 

But  what  a  transformation  has  been  worked  during 
the  past  quarter  century!  If  you  were  asked  to  locate 
the  "West"  at  this  time,  what  would  the  answer  be?  Is 
it  in  the  Mississippi  Valley?  Ask  the  man  living  in 
Wyoming.  Is  it  in  Colorado?  Inquire  of  the  mmer 
delving  in  the  tunnels  of  Nevada.  Is  Oregon  in  the 
West?  Not  literally  so,  for  here  we  look  across  to  China 
and  Japan,  and  call  that  wonderful  and  almost  mystical 
part  of  the  globe  the  "Orient" !  And,  of  course,  the 
Orient  is  in  the  East,  else  it  would  be  the  Occident.  Here 
we  look  to  the  West  to  see  the  East  and  to  the  East  to 
get  a  good  and  satisfactory  line  on  the  Old  West! 

I  will  relate  an  incident  which  well  illustrates  the  revo- 
lution in  terms  and  evolution  in  conditions  which  the 
final  encircling  of  the  earth  by  inquisitive  man — and 
woman — has  brought  about.  The  first  white  child  born 
within  what  is  now  the  boundaries  of  Salem,  the  capital 
of  Oregon,  was  George  P.  Holman,  whose  advent  into 
these  low  grounds  of  sorrow  occurred  February  6,  1842. 
His  father,  Joseph  Holman,  was  one  of  those  rugged 
pioneers  who  tackled  a  hard  job  in  preference  to  one 
of  an  easier  and  smoother  label  and  had  come  to  Oregon 
in  the  very  early  days  because  it  presented  a  condition 
of  things  calling  for  vigorous  action.  The  States  of 
Illinois  and  Iowa  in  1840  were  becoming  crowded  for 
such  ambitious  and  restless  spirits  as  he,  so  he  hitched 
his  oxen  to  the  wagon  and  started  for  a  country  where 
elbow-room  was  to  be  had  on  a  farm  a  mile  square  and 
where  details  were  given  a  freedom  of  development  which 
left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Mount  Hood,  the  Columbia 
River  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  were  about  the  smallest 
objects  to  be  found  here.  The  first,  in  all  its  solemn 
grandeur  and  beauty,  was  pointing  its  snow-capped  peak 
heavenward.  From  its  summit,  to  the  south,  could  be 
seen  its  sister  Shasta,  in  Northern  California;  to  the 
east  the  immense  region  stretching  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains; to  the  north,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  per- 


10  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

haps  as  far  as  Dr.  Cook  traveled  toward  the  North  Pole, 
and  to  the  west  until  one's  \ision  was  lost  in  the  shadows 
of  the  coast  nionntains  which  horder  the  ocean.  This 
great  extinct  volcano  was  resting  in  a  solitude  unbroken, 
so  far  as  we  know,  since  ages  before  Moses  received  his 
mysterious  messages  direct  from  heaven;  the  Columbia 
River, 

"Sired  bv  the  eternal  hills, 
And  wedded  to  the  sea," 

was  emptying  its  enormous  contributions,  drawn  from 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  into  the  waiting  ocean  through  a 
foaming  mouth  measuring  eight  miles  in  width. 

It  was  a  dream  like  this  which  lured  Joseph  Holman 
from  his  Eastern  home,  and  the  winter  of  1841  found 
him  located  in  Salem,  then  a  wilderness  without  a  legal 
existence  or  name,  an  Indian  camp,  not  yet  abandoned, 
called  Chemekete  Prairie.  Here  the  boy  George  first 
saw  the  light  of  day,  as  has  been  stated,  and  here  he 
lived  until  his  middle  manhood. 

In  1870  he  served  his  native  county  of  Marion  in  the 
lower  house  of  the  State  Legislature,  removing  a  few 
years  afterward  to  Salt  Lake,  where  his  residence  has 
since  been.  He  makes  regular  pilgrimages  to  his  old 
home,  however,  usually  every  two  years,  sometimes 
oftener,  and  his  coming  is  a  treat  not  only  to  himself 
but  to  his  old  associates.  The  last  time  he  was  home  he 
told  me  this  experience  which  he  encountered  a  few  years 
ago: 

He  had  been  sojourning  for  a  week  in  New  York  City 
when  one  day.  as  he  was  killing  time  in  the  lobby  of  his 
hotel,  he  heard  a  young  man  say  in  a  rather  pompous 
manner  to  his  companion,  who  had  asked  him  where  he 
was  from : 

"I  am  from  the  West,  sir." 

In  a  little  while  Holman,  hearing  the  same  declaration, 
or  rather  boast,  made  to  another  man  with  whom  the 
stranger  w^as  talking,  made  it  a  point  to  engage  in  con- 
versation with  the  Westerner. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  ii 

"I  understand  you  are  from  the  West,"  he  said,  after 
a  few  commonplace  remarks  had  been  made. 

"Yes,"  rephed  the  traveler. 

"What  part  of  the  West  are  you  from?"  inquired 
Holman. 

"My  home  is  in  Pittsburg,  sir,"  answered  the  West- 
erner. 

"Well,"  said  Holman,  "as  we  go  here  and  there  we 
find  people  from  every  section,  don't  we?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "it's  a  big  country — mighty 
big.     May  I  ask  where  vou  are  from?" 

"Me?   Oh.  I  am  from  the  East." 

"The  East?"  said  the  Pittsburgher.  "What  part  of 
the  East?" 

"Well."  said  ITolman,  "I  was  born  in  Salem,  Oregon, 
out  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  but  about  twenty  years  ago  I 
went  East  and  settled  down  in  Utah.  My  home  is  in 
Salt  Lake." 

The  point  of  which  is  that  whether  in  this  day  and 
generation  the  East  is  west  of  you  or  the  West  is  east 
of  you  depends  altogether  upon  where  you  are  when 
making  the  inquiry. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  truthful  account  of  the  early  settlement  of  the 
"Oregon  Country''  reads  more  like  the  creation  of  a 
vivid  imagination,  the  work  of  a  trained  writer  of  liction, 
than  a  straightforward  narrative  of  bare  facts.  No- 
where does  the  history  of  mankind  reveal  a  similar 
"hegira"  with  apparently  nothing  to  justify  it  other  than 
mere  restlessness  and  an  irresistible  desire  to  move  on. 
The  fact  was,  there  was  such  a  limitless  area  of  country 
— almost  measureless  in  comparison  with  the  number  of 
people  who  came  to  claim  it — that  the  average  man 
could  not  content  himself  long  in  one  place  lest  there 
might  be  a  better  one  farther  on  toward  the  setting  sun. 
The  true  pioneer  spirit  had  a  lodging  place  in  the  com- 
posite Western  bosom.  The  man  who  had  been  born 
in  Pennsylvania,  for  instance,  and  had  gone  to  Ohio  or 
Illinois  in  1840,  acquired  a  quarter  section  of  good  land, 
built  a  comfortable  log  cabin  and  had  broken  up  most 
of  his  "prairie,"  saw  visions  of  a  better  country  'way 
out  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  and,  through  fear  that  some 
other  man  should  get  there  first,  sold  out  "for  a  song" 
and  joined  the  great  caravan  which  moved  on  to  the 
land  of  promise. 

In  truth,  there  was  much  more  room  than  it  was  pos- 
sible for  the  pioneers  to  occupy.  The  very  immensity  of 
the  opportunity  created  a  veritable  sense  of  intoxication 
and  a  condition  of  instability  which  interfered  with  the 
development  of  any  one  region.  The  roving  disposition 
of  the  pioneers  of  the  last  century  reminds  me  of  scenes 
I  have  frequently  witnessed  on  the  farm  among  the  ani- 
mals— for  be  it  remembered  that  I  never  had  a  home 
save  on  a  farm  until  thirty  days  before  T  moved  into 
the  executive  offices  in  Salem  in  January,  1809.  ^rifl  "^X 
love  of  animals,  inborn,  has  been  strengthened  by  my 
prolonged  association  with  them.     Observation  of  their 

12 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  13 

habits  has  often  brought  out  the  most  astonishing  exhi- 
bitions of  what  some  people  call  instinct,  but  which  is 
often  far  above  occasional  displays  of  what  in  many 
people  is  termed  by  courtesy  intelligence.  It  must  have 
been  this  same  sort  of  observation  which  constrained 
"Bab" — a  very  versatile  and  spicy  syndicate  woman 
writer  of  two  decades  ago — to  close  a  remarkably  clever 
treatise  on  Man  and  his  characteristics  with  this  con- 
fession :  "The  fact  is,  the  more  I  have  been  thrown  in 
contact  with  men  and  the  greater  my  opportunity  for 
studying  their  traits  and  tendencies,  the  deeper  has 
become  my  respect  and  admiration  for  dogs." 

With  this  little  digression,  which  is  pardonable  I  hope, 
let  us  return  to  a  consideration  of  the  pioneers,  who 
abandoned  a  comfortable  competency,  already  assured, 
for  what  appeared  to  have  as  little  of  tangibility  as  the 
"baseless  fabric  of  a  dream."  With  a  boundless  field  in 
every  direction  there  was  far  less  of  contentment  than 
where  opportunities  were  restricted. 

Frequently  on  the  farm  I  have  fenced  ofif  a  portion  of 
a  pasture  intended  for  the  use  of  sheep,  keeping  it  sepa- 
rate, in  order  that  the  grass  might  attain  a  growth  that 
would  afford  real  nourishment,  when  needed,  to  the 
flock.  After  the  older  portion  of  the  pasture  had  been 
literally  "eaten  into  the  ground,"  after  the  manner  of 
sheep,  upon  turning  them  into  the  fresh,  luxuriant  grass, 
the  really  hungry  animals,  instead  of  feasting  near  the 
entrance,  would  at  once  begin  an  exploration  of  the 
whole  area  of  the  new-found  bonanza  in  vegetable  wealth 
— eating  as  they  ran  and  bleating  as  they  ate. 

And  I  have,  just  at  the  beginning  of  harvest,  fenced 
ofif  an  acre  of  splendid  wheat,  yielding  thirty  bushels, 
for  the  benefit  of  a  dozen  hoes  which  needed  thus  to  be 
tided  over  during  the  particularly  scant  part  of  the  season. 
Within  an  hour  of  their  admittance  there  would  be  no 
square  rod  of  that  acre  that  had  not  been  trampled  down 
and  sampled  by  the  hogs,  whose  appetites  could  have 
been  satisfied  to  the  full  without  going  more  than  twenty 
feet  from  the  gap. 


14  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

So  the  pioneers  of  the  first  half  of  the  last  century 
were  dissatisfied  with  the  conditions  prevailing  in  Illinois, 
Iowa  and  Alissouri.  as  well  as  in  other  ''Western"  States, 
and  gathered  their  limited  substance  together  for  the 
journey  across  the  plains.  The  great  and  fertile  prairies 
of  Kansas  and  Nebraska  presented  no  attraction  to  them. 
Indeed,  Illinois  and  Indiana,  as  well  as  Iowa  and  Mis- 
souri, were  but  half  settled.  The  rosy  representations  of 
the  possibilities  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  with  its  salubrious 
climate,  were  irresistible.  And  then,  besides,  it  was 
farther  West — which  constituted  one  of  its  strongest 
appeals. 

There  were  two  marked  differences  between  the  great 
immigration  to  Oregon  in  the  '40's  and  other  movements 
leading  to  the  subjugation  of  new  countries.  One  was 
the  remarkable  distance — more  than  two  thousand  miles 
— and  the  other  the  innumerable  hardships  which  were 
certain  to  be  encountered  and  the  danger  of  being  at- 
tacked by  the  savage  tribes  of  Indians  found  everywhere. 
But,  far  from  discouraging  the  hardy  settlers,  in  most 
cases  these  features  appeared  to  be  an  actual  incentive 
to  make  the  journey  "or  bust."  With  a  degree  of  courage 
almost  beyond  classification,  even  the  women  accepted  the 
situation  with  as  much  enthusiasm  as  the  men,  and  often 
furnished  the  nerve  which  was  necessary  to  carry  to  a 
successful  issue  the  gigantic  undertaking. 

A  man  is  but  a  weak  brother,  at  best.  He  was  always 
so.  Even  Adam  fell  the  very  first  time  he  was  tempted, 
as  we  are  informed  in  his  only  biography,  and  when  ques- 
tioned as  to  the  origin  and  development  of  the  little  afifair 
out  in  the  Garden,  sought  to  defend  himself  by  saying 
his  wife  was  entirely  to  blame;  and  for  this  instance  of 
ungallant  cowardice  I  desire  to  say  that  he  is  the  only 
one  of  my  ancestors — at  least  those  of  whom  I  have  any 
definite  knowledge — that  I  am  not  extremely  proud  of. 
From  his  day  to  the  present,  woman  has  been  the  burden- 
bearer  of  the  race,  the  center  of  the  home,  the  mainstay 
of  civilization,  the  foundation  of  society,  the  mainspring 
of  every  commendable  undertaking  of  man,   and  per- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  15 

forms  her  never-ending  duties  with  a  patience  and  all- 
abounding  love  which  entitle  her  to  a  crown  not  yet 
accorded  her  and  a  universal  homage  which  thoughtless 
and  selfish  man  should  yield  her  with  his  every  breath 
and  pulsing  heart-beat. 

At  a  Fourth  of  July  celebration  in  Salem,  a  few  years 
ago,  the  orator  of  the  occasion  dwelt  at  one  point  quite 
eloquently  upon  the  virtues  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  pay- 
ing them  a  red-hot  tribute  for  their  many  privations  in 
the  interest  of  human  liberty,  ecclesiastical  freedom,  etc. 
No  band  of  men  since  the  great  Exodus  had  done  so 
much  for  the  race  as  had  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  etc.  After 
he  had  closed,  the  presiding  officer  invited  several  others, 
as  was  the  custom,  to  make  a  few  "spontaneous  remarks." 
Among  them  was  a  well-known  pioneer  lawyer,  who 
said,  among  other  things  : 

"Mr.  President,  I  was  very  much  interested  in  the 
eulogy  the  orator  of  the  day  paid  to  the  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
all  of  which  was  no  doubt  deserved :  but  1  want  to  say  a 
word  for  the  Pilgrim  Mothers.  All  my  life,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent. I  have  heard  speakers  sing  the  praises  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  for  the  great  hardships  they  underwent.  It  has 
always  been  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  this  and  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  that,  and  I  think  the  time  has  come  when  we 
should  give  due  credit  to  the  Pilgrim  Mothers,  for  they 
not  only  endured  all  the  hardships  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
but.  in  addition,  endured  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  besides!" 

Taking  the  privilege  of  indulging  a  few  words  of  per- 
sonal reference,  I  may  say  that  I  belong  to  a  family  of 
pioneers  whose  wanderings  began  in  1636.  when  two 
brothers.  Thomas  and  George  Geer,  came  to  America 
from  Devonshire.  England,  and  settled  in  what  is  now 
Windham  County,  Connecticut.  These  young  men,  fif- 
teen and  seventeen  years  of  age  respectively,  soon  after 
landing  in  Boston  found  their  way  to  the  interior  where 
each  acquired  a  tract  of  land.  The  archives  of  Windham 
County  contain  at  this  time  descriptions  of  their  holdings 
by  "metes  and  bounds,"  copies  of  which  I  have  in  my 
possession. 


16  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  father  of  these  two  young  pilgrims  who  had  the 
grit  and  ambition  to  seek  the  New  World  was  a  farmer 
in  Devon  Counly,  England,  Jonathan  by  name,  but  he 
never  left  the  "old  country."  On  February  17,  1658, 
George  Geer  married  Sarah  Allyn.  They  had  eleven 
children,  the  second  of  whom  was  a  son,  Jonathan,  born 

May  26,  1662.    Jonathan  married  Mary ,  date  of 

marriage  not  known;  to  them  seven  children  were  born, 
the  first  being  Jonathan,  Jr.,  who  married  Elizabeth  Her- 
rick  June  17,  1721.  Of  this  union,  five  children  were 
born.  Losing  his  wife  in  1743.  Jonathan  married  Han- 
nah Putnam  in  1745,  by  whom  he  had  two  children.  His 
first  child  by  his  first  wife  was  named  Aaron,  born  on 
May  7.   1722. 

Aaron  Geer  married  Mercy  Fisher,  of  Preston.  Con- 
necticut, on  January  20,  1742,  by  whom  he  had  four 
children.  By  a  second  wife  Isaiah  was  born  in  1765. 
This  son  was  married  in  about  1700,  his  wife's  maiden 
name  being  Carey;  to  them  several  children  were  born, 
among  them  Aaron,  Joseph  Carey  and  Irene,  Joseph 
Carey  first  seeing  the  light  of  day  on  February  5,  1795. 
His  sixth  child  was  a  son  named  Heman  Johnson,  born 
September  23.  1828,  who  was  the  father  of  this  writer. 

Joseph  Carey  Geer,  my  grandfather,  was  the  first  of 
his  name  to  "come  West,"  all  his  ancestors  having  re- 
mained in  Connecticut  or  the  States  immediately  adjoin- 
ing. In  1 813  he  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  war  then 
being  waged  between  the  United  States  and  England, 
and  in  181 5,  at  the  age  of  twenty  years,  married  IMary 
Johnson,  a  native  daughter  of  Rhode  Island.  Three 
years  later,  having  accumulated  some  property,  consist- 
ing of  two  horses,  a  wagon,  a  bolt  of  cloth  woven  by  his 
wife  on  a  hand-loom,  two  children,  Ralph  C,  aged  two 
years,  and  Fred  W.,  an  infant,  and  one  hundred  dollars 
in  money,  he  bade  a  long  farewell  to  Connecticut,  the 
home  of  his  ancestors  for  nearly  two  hundred  years, 
and  started  for  the  Northwest  territory.  Crossing  the 
Allephany  Mountains,  he  settled  in  Union  County,  Ohio, 
where  for  two  winters  he  taught  school,  working  in  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  17 

summers  for  neighboring  farmers  for  the  princely  sum 
of  eight  dollars  a  month.  I  heard  him  say  in  his  latter 
years,  when  recalling  his  early  experiences  in  Ohio,  that 
he  could  always  get  work  on  the  farms,  but  could  not 
succeed  in  having  his  remuneration  increased.  In  1821 
he  leased  for  six  years  a  small  tract  of  land  near  where 
the  town  of  Woodstock  now  stands,  but  sold  it  the  next 
year  and  leased  a  larger  place  on  the  same  terms  on  the 
Big  Darby  Plains.  Here  he  built  a  house  and  raised  two 
crops,  but  being  driven  out  by  malaria,  so  prevalent  from 
July  to  November  each  year,  he  moved  in  1824  to  Madi- 
son County.  Here  he  bought  a  splendid  farm  and  pros- 
pered, giving  special  attention  to  the  raising  of  fine  stock. 
When  after  twenty-tw-o  years  of  persistent  effort  in  Ohio 
he  decided  to  go  West  again,  he  was  a  thriving  farmer 
surrounded  by  a  family  of  five  sons  and  five  daughters, 
the  two  older  sons  having  in  the  meantime  surrendered 
to  the  world-wide  reign  of  Dan  Cupid  and  taken  unto 
themselves  wives  from  among  the  fair  damsels  of  the 
immediate  neighborhood. 

Speaking  once  of  his  early  married  experiences  in  Con- 
necticut, Grandfather  Geer  said:  "I  found,  after  work- 
ing from  daylight  until  dark  for  three  years,  that  I  could 
never  make  anything  on  that  poor,  worn-out  land.  So  I 
concluded  to  go  to  the  'Far  West,'  as  Ohio  was  then 
called,  and  on  September  10,  1818,  with  my  wife  and 
two  little  tow-headed  boys,  less  than  one  hundred  dollars 
in  money  and  a  light  team.  I  bade  farewell  to  the  old 
Geer  farm  and  joined  a  company  of  about  forty — Burn- 
hams.  Hathaways  and  Howards — and  crossed  into  the 
Mississippi  Valley,  being  the  first  Geer  to  venture  West, 
as  far  as  I  can  learn." 

In  the  winter  of  1830-40,  however,  after  having  be- 
come well  provided  with  this  world's  goods  as  the  result 
of  twent3^-two  years  of  hard  labor,  with  a  good  farm 
improved  with  houses,  barns,  orchards  and  all  that  would 
insure  a  great  degree  of  comfort  for  the  remainder  of 
his  davs.  mv  grandfather  again  surrendered  to  the  curi- 
osity to  know  from  personal  observation  what  there  was 


i8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  a  desirable  nature  farther  west,  disposed  of  his  farm, 
and  with  all  his  children,  accompanied  by  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Irene  Ea^^an.  and  her  large  family,  chartered  a  steam- 
boat at  Cincinnati  and  started  down  the  Ohio  River. 
Their  destination  was  Knox  County,  Illinois,  where  it 
was  rumored  there  was  better  (  ?)  land.  No  doubt  a  still 
further  incenti\e  to  make  what  seemed,  or  would  now 
seem,  a  great  sacrifice  was  found  in  the  fact  that  it  was 
several  hundred  miles  farther  west.  As  to  this  fact  they 
were  taking  no  risk. 

This  journey  was  made  in  September.  1840,  and  my 
father  was  then  a  boy  of  twelve.  I  have  often  listened 
to  his  description  of  the  intense  excitement  which  was 
encountered  everywhere  by  reason  of  the  famous  presi- 
dential campaign,  then  at  its  height,  between  William  H. 
Harrison,  "Tippecanoe."  and  Martin  Van  Buren.  Log 
cabins  and  coonskins  were  universally  in  evidence,  and 
the  extravagance  of  the  partisan  demonstration  was  a 
revelation  to  the  boy.  not  yet  in  his  teens,  who  had  never 
before  been  five  miles  from  the  little  town  of  Summer- 
ford  in  Madison  County. 

Arriving  in  Illinois  after  a  very  tedious  voyage  up  the 
Mississippi  River,  my  grandfather  purchased  a  farm 
near  Galesburg,  in  Knox  County,  and  went  through  the 
same  general  experience  which  had  been  his  in  Ohio. 
Within  seven  years,  however,  being  exposed  to  the 
Oregon  fever,  he  contracted  such  a  serious  case  that  in 
the  spring  of  1847  he  disposed  of  all  his  property,  except 
the  necessary  teams  for  the  journey,  and  started  for  the 
Pacific  Coast,  arriving  at  Oregon  City  in  October  of 
that  year.  Two  vears  before  that  his  son.  Joseph  Carey. 
Jr.,  had  come  to  Oregon,  and  his  son  Fred,  with  his  young 
wife  and  two  children,  one  year  before,  had  joined  the 
great  westward  movement  in  1846. 

This,  in  outline,  is  the  experience  of  a  typical  pioneer, 
who  in  the  course  of  the  first  fifty  years  of  his  life,  after 
coming  to  maturity  in  a  New  England  State,  made  two 
farms  in  the  Central  iVTississippi  Vallev,  where  he 
wrought  for  twenty-nine  years  in  the  subduing  of  such 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGOxN  19 

adverse  conditions  as  are  always  to  be  found  on  the 
frontier,  drove  an  ox  team  two  thousand  miles  across 
deserts,  uninhabited  plains  and  frowning  mountains  to  a 
country  practically  unknown  and  began  making  a  new 
farm  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Willamette  River,  opposite 
where  Butteville  now  stands. 

Grandfather  Geer  lived  thirty-four  years  after  his 
arrival  in  Oregon,  passing  into  the  other  life  August  27, 
1881,  aged  eighty-six  years  and  six  months.  I  am  per- 
fectly justified  in  saving  that  he  lived  an  upright  life  in 
all  respects  and  died  without  an  enemy.  He  was  a  re- 
markably industrious  man  and  was  endowed  by  nature 
with  a  sunny  disposition  which  endeared  him  to  all.  In 
clearing  land  on  his  farm  in  1856  he  became  overheated 
while  burning  brush  and  stumps,  and  as  a  consequence 
cataracts  formed  on  each  eye,  which,  because  of  ineffi- 
cient treatment,  resulted  in  total  blindness.  During  the 
following  twenty-five  years  he  sav/  no  ray  of  light,  but 
notwithstanding  this  great  afiliction  his  cheerfulness 
never  deserted  him.  He  was  blind  the  first  time  I  ever 
saw  him — I  was  then  a  chunk  of  a  boy.  I  remember 
how  he  had  me  stand  by  his  side,  in  order  that  he  might 
get  a  line  on  my  stature,  physiognomy  and  phrenological 
development  to  date,  and  he  insisted  that  I  read  for  him, 
that  he  might  determine  how  far  I  had  advanced  in  that 
direction.  There  was  a  wire  stretched  between  two 
posts,  about  fifty  feet  apart,  and  by  means  of  an  attached 
ring  he  would  walk  from  one  post  to  the  other  for  hours 
every  day  in  pleasant  weather  for  the  purpose  of  exercise, 
using  the  ring  as  a  guide.  I  used  to  watch  him  as  he 
walked  along  his  well-beaten  path,  and  I  am  sure  that 
the  first  sentiment  of  pity  I  ever  felt  was  excited  by 
the  sight.  He  was  the  first  blind  man  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  I  am  certain  that  until  then  I  had  never  understood 
that  people  ever  lost  their  eyesight. 

We  lived  thirty  miles  from  Butteville,  a  distance  so 
great  in  pioneer  times  that  it  was  not  often  covered  for 
the  sake  of  a  mere  pleasure  trip.  A  few  times  we  had 
been  to  Butteville,  however,  and  I  understood  that  we 


20  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

went  there  to  visit  my  grandfather.  I  thought  ini^h 
more  of  him  than  if  he  had  not  been  my  grandfather.  I 
didn't  know  why,  except  that  in  a  general  way  your 
grandfather  is  a  better  man  than  his  neighbors,  and. 
besides,  he  makes  more  over  you.  And  that  helped  some. 
But  one  of  my  earliest  and  greatest  surprises  came  when, 
after  returning  from  one  of  these  visits,  I  learned  through 
listening  to  the  conversation  at  the  fireside  that  my  grand- 
father was  my  father's  father!  Somehow  this  phase 
of  the  situation  had  never  presented  itself  to  my  mind, 
if  I  had  any — which  seems  doubtful,  as  I  look  back  and 
recall  the  circumstances — but  the  astounding  revelation 
served  to  impress  upon  me  the  fact  that  the  men  who 
are  the  fathers  of  the  children  we  know,  themselves  at 
one  time  had  fathers,  and  that  some  of  them  were  still 
living.  I  had  never  delved  any  further  into  these  myste- 
ries than  a  cursory  examination  of  the  first  strata  of 
cause  and  efTect. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Grandfather  Geer  was  during  the 
summer  of  1880 — a  few  months  after  he  had  passed  his 
eighty-fifth  birthdav — and  he  was  the  same  cheerful  man 
as  in  his  younger  days,  though  he  had  then  been  totally 
blind  for  twenty-five  years.  It  was  on  that  occasion  that 
he  told  this  story  at  the  dinner  table,  illustrating  the  great 
devotion  and  faith  some  people  have  in  the  Divine  Being, 
even  to  the  smallest  details.     He  said : 

"Where  I  lived  in  Connecticut  there  was  a  man  who 
had  the  habit  of  thanking  the  Lord  for  every  favor  he 
enjoyed  or  whatever  success  of  anv  kind  he  achieved. 
He  would  also  ask  the  Lord  for  assistance  when  he  was 
about  to  undertake  anything,  no  matter  how  trivial  it 
was.  One  day,  when  he  had  been  plowing  his  corn  since 
early  in  the  morning,  the  noon  hour  arrived,  and  as  he 
was  very  tired  he  concluded  to  ride  his  horse  to  the  barn. 
He  was  a  verv  tall  horse  and  it  was  no  easy  thing  to 
mount  him  without  stirrups.  So.  placing  his  hands  on 
his  back,  he  looked  into  the  sky  and  asked  the  Lord  to 
help  him  in  his  difficult  undertaking.  Having  attended 
to    this    necessary   preliminary,    he    summoned    all    his 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  21 

strength  and  with  a  superhuman  effort  made  the  leap, 
but  the  result  proved  that  he  had  overdone  the  affair. 
He  not  only  got  on  top  of  the  horse,  but,  since  there  was 
nothing  stationary  to  hold  on  to,  he  went  on  over,  bur- 
rowing his  head  into  the  plowed  ground.  After  he  had 
pulled  himself  together,  dug  the  dirt  out  of  his  ears  and 
secured  his  hat,  he  put  his  hands  on  the  back  of  the  horse 
again,  lifted  his  face  to  the  skies,  and  with  meekness  as 
well  as  devotion  written  all  over  his  face,  said : 
"O  Lord,  when  Thou  art  good  Thou  art  too  good !" 


CHAPTER  III 

Ever  since  Oregon  was  admitted  into  the  Union,  more 
than  fifty-two  years  ago — the  date  being  February  14, 
1859 — its  people  have  been  noted  for  their  conservatism, 
for  their  tendency  to  accept  existing  conditions  until 
some  gilt-edged  testimony  has  been  presented  that  a 
change  will  not  only  be  safe  and  accompanied  by  a  guar- 
anteed improvement,  but  that  there  will  be  a  rock-ribbed 
assurance  that  its  cost  shall  be  restricted  within  reason- 
able bounds.  The  pioneers  found  a  new  country  here, 
practically  as  the  hands  of  its  Maker  had  left  it  some  mil- 
lions of  years  before — though  most  of  them  held  tena- 
ciously to  the  literal  construction  of  the  Genesis  account. 
They  had  taken  possession  of  it,  had  made  it  what  it 
was:  it  was  good  enough  for  them,  and,  therefore,  for 
anybody  else.  They  were  isolated  from  all  the  rest  of 
the  world,  had  few  or  no  wants  that  could  not  be  sup- 
plied by  a  requisition  upon  their  own  resources,  and.  in 
short,  were  living  the  simple  life  in  its  most  approved 
form. 

For  these  reasons  the  people  of  Oregon,  as  contrasted 
with  those  of  California,  for  instance,  have  been  re- 
garded as  being  "slow."  and.  largely  for  the  same  reason, 
the  State  has  been  in  a  measure  retarded  in  its  develop- 
ment from  e-^-ery  point  of  view.  "But  this  has  been  neither 
a  discredit  nor  a  distinct  loss.  The  pioneers  of  Oregon, 
those  who  came  here  during  the  first  ten  years  of  its 
settlement,  were  not  in  any  sense  adventurers.  Largely 
drawn  from  the  Mississippi  Vallev  States,  mostlv  farmers, 
they  had  in  view  the  acquisition  of  lands,  and  intended 
to  pursue  their  former  vocations  in  their  new  homes. 
Thev  were  people  of  some  material  substance  or  they 
could  not  have  afforded  the  expense  of  such  a  lourney, 

22 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  23 

and  they  were  men  and  women  of  stamina  or  they  would 
not  have  attempted,  and  succeeded,  in  overcoming  the 
unparalleled  difficulties  which  beset  them  upon  every 
hand. 

As  contrasted  with  this  fact,  the  earliest  settlers  of 
California  were  drawn  thither  by  the  disco\ery  of  gold 
in  the  fall  of  1848  and,  as  was  natural,  the  footloose, 
those  Vv'ithout  marital  or  other  ties,  the  reckless  and  dar- 
ing, went  there  by  the  thousands  and  every  nation  under 
heaven  was  represented.  There  was  nothing  that  bound 
them  to  the  country;  they  were  not  and  did  not  intend  to 
become  landholders,  and  since  an  overwhelming  majority 
of  them  failed  to  find  gold  in  such  quantities  as  they  had 
expected — as  is  the  history  of  mining  camps  the  world 
over — a  large  number  of  them  became  turbulent,  careless 
of  consequences,  and  created  a  condition  which  in  many 
cases  called  for  the  short-cut  to  justice  and  the  inaugura- 
tion of  law  and  order  bv  way  of  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee. 

There  was  never  anything  of  this  character  to  mar  the 
earlv  history  of  Oregon,  for  the  reason  which  I  have 
outlined.  Our  people  settled  down  to  the  cultivation  of 
the  soil  at  once  and  to  the  erection  of  homes.  Indeed, 
it  has  been  said  that  thousands  went  to  California  during 
the  first  years  of  its  occupancy  bv  Americans  and  "settled 
down  there  because  thev  couldn't  settle  up  where  they 
came  from."  But  while  all  this  had  its  objections  and 
presented  manv  difficult  problems  for  solution,  it  had  its 
compensations  in  the  fact  that  the  more  serious  minded 
men  were  driven  to  seek  other  vocations  than  mining",  and 
the  development  of  California's  wonderful  natural  re- 
sources followed  "as  night  the  dav."  The  verv  activity 
of  the  disappointed  men  who  flocked  to  the  mines  in  that 
section  in  '49  and  '=;o  turned  them  into  business  channels, 
and  the  result  is  seen  in  the  great  accomplishments  of 
to-day,  agriculturally,  horticulturallv  and  commercially. 
The  heteroo-eneousness  of  its  earlv  population  provided 
it  with  the  material  for  merchants,  bankers,  sailors, 
steamboat  men,  miners,  farmers,  stock-raisers,  etc.,  and 


24  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

as  a  consequence  its  development  has  been  so  marvelous 
as  to  win,  deservedly,  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

All  this  was  not  to  be  a  part  of  the  early  history  of 
Oregon,  however,  notwithstanding  its  boundless  natural 
resources.  It  has  come  since,  and  the  dawn  of  its  second 
birth  is  just  breaking  in  this  good  year  of  191 1.  The 
retarding  of  its  development  has  in  a  sense  been  a  bless- 
ing for  the  generations  yet  to  come,  since  its  future  looms 
large  before  it.  Its  pioneers  were  farmers  who  upon 
arriving  here  resumed  their  former  vocation — partly,  of 
course,  for  the  reason  that  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 
It  is  not  far  from  the  fact — perhaps  it  is  the  fact — to 
say  that  fully  nine-tenth?  of  the  people  who  came  here 
during  the  first  ten  years  of  the  migration  to  the  "Oregon 
Country"  came  directlv  from  the  four  States  of  Missouri, 
Iowa,  Illinois  and  Indiana,  and  it  is  likely  that  three- 
fourths  of  these  v/ere  from  the  first  two  named. 

It  is  extremely  interesting  to  note  the  general  course 
of  westward  immigration.  Most  of  the  early  settlers  in 
Missouri  came  from  either  Kentucky  or  Tennessee  and 
the  ancestors  of  these  largely  from  Virginia  or  the  Caro- 
linas.  The  Ohioans  came  from  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York,  a  few  from  the  New  England  States,  while  south- 
ern Illinois  and  Indiana  in  their  early  settlement  were 
recruited  from  Kentucky.  Mv  grandfather  on  my 
mother's  side,  John  Leonard  EofF,  typifies  in  his  career 
the  average  Southerner  of  the  last  century  who  was  domi- 
nated by  the  human  instinct  to  continue  to  the  westward. 
He  was  born  in  Pulaski  County,  Kentucky.  July  2,  1812. 
His  father,  John  EoflF,  was  born  near  Wheeling,  Vir- 
ginia, in  1777.  He  was  brought  to  Point  Lick,  Kentucky, 
by  his  parents  in  1780,  and  in  1801  moved  to  Pulaski 
County,  where  he  lived  until  his  death,  January  24,  1867, 
aged  ninety  years. 

That  part  of  Kentucky  where  he  chose  to  spend  his 
life  is  one  of  the  poorest  regions  to  be  found  in  Uncle 
Sam's  domain,  no  matter  where  you  might  search,  if  3'ou 
except  a  Western  desert.  Of  course  at  that  time  much 
of  the  beautiful  and  fertile  hill  land,  now  known  as  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  25 

Blue  Grass  section,  was  unoccupied,  but  it  afforded  little 
attraction  to  the  first  adventurers  west  of  the  Blue  Ridge 
and  Cumberland  ranges,  since  they  were  mountaineers 
and  cared  little  for  homes  where  deer  were  not  easily 
found  and  bear  could  not  be  had  by  the  mere  setting  of 
traps. 

It  was  in  a  country  such  as  this  that  my  grandfather 
was  born  and  in  which  he  remained  until  he  was  twenty 
years  of  age.  Hundreds  of  times  when  a  child  I  have 
sat  by  his  fireside  and  listened  to  his  narration  of  boy- 
hood experiences — how  until  he  was  grown  he  never 
owned  a  pair  of  "store  shoes"  to  be  worn  except  on  Sun- 
days, and  how  his  only  daytime  raiment,  until  he  was 
big  enough  to  go  "sparking."  was  a  tow  shirt  made  by 
his  mother.  By  dint  of  hard  work,  early  and  late,  the 
stingy  soil  was  persuaded  to  yield  sufficient  corn  for 
"dodgers,"  which  supplied  the  family  with  bread,  and 
meat  was  derived  from  the  slaying  of  deer,  bear  and  wild 
hogs.  Tame  hogs  were  not  known,  and  if  they  had  been 
there  was  nothing  to  feed  them  on.  The  "razor  backs" 
could  live  on  the  "mast"  which  fell  in  liberal  quantities 
from  the  abounding  oaks,  chestnuts  and  hickory  trees. 

Amid  these  surroundings  my  grandfather  lived  and 
grew  to  manhood  without  the  advantages  of  even  a  dis- 
trict school.  There  were  no  schools  in  that  part  of  Ken- 
tucky in  those  days,  either  public  or  private.  With  his 
four  brothers  he  hoed  corn  and  tobacco,  made  rails  and 
took  an  active  part  in  the  simple  neighborhood  gather- 
ings, husking-bees  and  singing  schools.  Even  then  the 
Kentucky  girls  were  beautiful  to  look  upon,  and  the 
young  man  who  could  carry  off  the  laurels  at  the  wrestl- 
ing bouts  was  likelv  to  be  the  "catch"  in  the  community 
— and  in  the  contest  for  this  distinction  my  grandfather 
was  near  the  head  of  the  rare. 

He  would  probably  have  remained  a  resident  of  his 
native  State  during  the  whole  of  his  long  life  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  attraction  of  a  neighbor's  daughter, 
Mary  Ann  Routen,  who.  with  the  aid  of  Cupid,  carried 
him  off  his  feet  at  the  age  of  twenty  years.     While  in 


26  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

that  state  of  mind  there  could  be  no  peace  or  happiness 
or  rest  or  delay,  especially  the  latter,  until  the  two  souls 
with  but  a  single  thought  should  be  merged  into  two 
hearts  that  beat  as  one.  But  an  obstacle  at  once  arose, 
and,  as  some  philosopher  has  remarked,  the  main  objec- 
tion one  has  to  an  obstacle  is  that  it  is  always  in  the  way. 
The  girl's  parents  were  opposed  to  the  marriage,  as 
parents  are  prone  to  be  at  times;  but  this  interposition, 
like  many  another  of  its  kind,  proved  to  be  no  barrier  at 
all.  Neither  of  them  was  of  age  and  the  laws  of  Ken- 
tucky sternly  forbade  the  marriage  of  mere  children. 
Other  young  people  before  them,  meeting  with  the  same 
absurd  hindrance  to  the  realization  of  love's  young 
dream,  had  found  balm  through  a  trip  to  Indiana,  which 
had  a  code  of  matrimonial  laws  with  whose  terms  com- 
pliance was  easy. 

So,  one  dark  night  in  January,  1833,  my  grandfather's 
brother  George,  five  years  his  senior,  appeared  at  the 
home  of  neighbor  Routen  soon  after  bedtime  with  a 
good  Kentucky  saddle  horse,  equipped  with  a  side-saddle, 
and,  as  luck  would  have  it.  Miss  Mary  Ann  was  at  the 
front  gate  suitably  garbed  for  a  long  journey.  Without 
any  unnecessary  commotion  the  two  were  soon  galloping 
across  the  woods;  and,  as  strange  things  so  often  happen 
in  groups,  they  had  not  gone  more  than  a  mile  when  they 
came  across  my  grandfather  at  the  forks  of  the  road, 
astride  a  four-year-old  charger,  apparently  in  a  listening 
attitude.  Seeing  things  had  turned  out  that  w-av.  the 
three  of  them  rode  toward  the  North  Star  as  rapidly  as 
their  steeds  could  travel  and  within  a  few  days  crossed 
the  Ohio  River  into  Indiana.  Here  circumstances  were 
favorable  to  a  matrimonial  alliance  and  John  Leonard 
Eoff  was  married  to  Mary  Ann  Routen.  And  they  lived 
together  ever  afterwards  happily,  until  my  grandmother 
died  in  i8go  at  the  age  of  seventy-six.  My  grandfather 
passed  away  in  January.  1899,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six 
years  and  six  months. 

My  grandparents  lived   the  first  two  years  of  their 
married  life  in  Indiana,   moved  to  McCoupin   County, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  27 

Illinois,  in  1835,  and  in  March,  1841,  moved  to  Burling- 
ton, Iowa,  crossing  the  Mississippi  River  at  that  point, 
as  I  have  heard  my  grandfather  describe  hundreds  of 
times,  on  the  first  day  of  March  on  the  ice  with  his  team 
and  wagon.  Here  he  worked  at  teaming  for  two  years, 
after  which,  in  1843,  he  removed  to  Davis  County,  near 
the  Missouri  line,  and  acquired  a  piece  of  land.  By  this 
time  there  were  five  children  in  the  family  and  the  making 
of  a  home  as  well  as  a  living  on  the  wild  prairie  was  a  task 
which,  with  the  limited  means  at  hand  in  those  days,  was 
calculated  to  bring  dismay  to  the  stoutest  hearts.  But 
my  grandfather  was  an  unusually  industrious  man,  and  by 
persistent  application  and  the  strictest  economy  on  the 
part  of  the  family  he  had  within  three  years  a  little  farm 
in  cultivation  and  a  comfortable  log  house  plentifully  fur- 
nished with  the  real  necessaries  of  life. 

But,  when  absent  at  church  one  Sunday  in  the  spring 
of  1846,  his  house  caught  fire  and  before  the  arrival  of 
the  nearest  neighbor  everything  was  consumed.  Nothing 
was  left  but  a  pile  of  smouldering  ashes  of  all  his  per- 
sonal effects.  He  had  only  his  team,  his  land  and  his 
family. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  talk  about  the  Oregon 
country  was  spreading  everywhere  and  this  disaster  left 
my  grandfather  in  the  mood  to  "move  on."  Devoting 
the  remainder  of  the  year  to  the  preparation  for  another 
westward  journey,  in  the  spring  of  1847  he  joined  the 
great  caravan  which  assembled  at  Independence,  Mis- 
souri, and  arrived  in  Oregon  in  October  of  that  year. 
In  Iowa  he  had  been  a  near  neighbor  of  Captain  L.  N. 
English,  who  had  come  to  Oregon  in  1845  and  had  located 
on  the  beautiful  Howell's  prairie,  in  Marion  County, 
^vhere  he  erected  a  rrist-  and  saw-mill — among  the  first  in 
the  territory  of  Oregon.  In  January,  1841.  George  EofT, 
brother  of  my  grandfather,  had  married  Nancy  English, 
a  niece  of  Captain  Enelish,  and  they  were  a  part  of  the 
company  of  which  my  grandparents  were  members. 
Knowing  thev  were  en  route.  Captain  English  met  them 
at  the  western  foot  of  the  Cascade  Mountains  with  fresh 


28  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

provisions  and  piloted  them  to  his  home.  Uncle  George 
Eoff  secured  a  section  of  land  in  the  fall  of  1848,  situated 
on  the  first  upland  slope  south  of  Howell's  prairie  in  the 
Waldo  Hills,  while  my  grandfather  at  the  same  time 
bought  the  squatter's  right  to  a  section  of  land  which 
comprised  the  extreme  southern  end  of  that  prairie.  To 
this  he  afterward  added  a  quarter  section  and  here  he 
lived  until  his  death.  It  was  his  home  for  more  than 
fifty-one  years. 

I  have  thus  traced  somewhat  in  detail  the  careers  of 
both  my  grandfathers,  one  purpose  being  to  leave  in 
permanent  form  a  record  of  their  lives  and  another  being 
to  illustrate  in  their  wanderings  the  general  tendency  of 
the  American  people,  as  they  began  to  leave  the  shores 
of  the  Atlantic  in  quest  of  a  newer  region — the  uncon- 
quered  and  mysterious  West.  The  best  that  w-as  to  be 
had  in  the  country  where  they  lived  was  not  good  enough 
as  long  as  there  was  a  probability  of  a  better  one  beyond. 
But,  after  all,  restlessness  is  the  mainspring  which  moves 
us  onward  to  progress,  and  however  much  a  feeling  of 
content  is  desirable,  from  many  points  of  view,  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  contented  man  is  not  likely  to  forge 
ahead  in  an  attack  upon  the  existing  order  of  things, 
without  which  assault — though  we  may  call  such  a  man  an 
agitator  and  a  crank — we  would  probably  still  be  wear- 
ing the  skins  of  wild  animals  for  clothing,  if,  indeed,  yve 
should  be  wearing  anv  at  all,  and  expressing  our  thoughts 
in  the  mysterious  gibberish  of  the  spectacular  monkey. 


CHAPTER  IV 

At  this  point  I  desire  to  devote  a  chapter  or  two  to  the 
remarkable  steps  which  were  taken  by  the  United  States 
in  the  acquisition  of  the  western  half  of  the  continent, 
for  it  is  really  an  important  part  of  the  history  of  the 
Oregon  country.  "The  Fathers,"  especially  Jefferson 
and  Madison,  were  believers  in  what  was  known  as  the 
strict  construction  of  the  Federal  Constitution ;  that  is, 
that  the  States  held  within  themselves  the  supreme  power 
in  all  cases  except  where  the  powers  of  the  Federal  Gov- 
ernment were  specifically  defined.  In  other  words,  all 
powers  not  expressly  conferred  were  to  be  exercised  by 
the  States.  This  doctrine  was  specifically  promulgated 
in  the  famous  "Resolutions  of  '98-9,"  of  which  Jefferson 
and  Madison  were  the  authors. 

And  according  to  this  interpretation  of  the  Constitu- 
tion the  United  States  had  no  right,  either  expressed  or 
implied,  to  acquire  new  territory.  Compliance  with  this 
view  of  Jefferson  and  his  political  associates  would  have 
fixed  the  western  boundary  of  the  original  thirteen  states 
as  the  permanent  one  for  the  nation.  Think  of  it!  If 
it  had  been  settled  upon  as  the  unalterable  definition  of 
the  powers  and  limitations  of  the  Constitution,  to-day 
the  western  boundary  of  Pennsylvania  would  be  the 
eastern  line  of  some  foreign  nation,  perhaps  of  some 
French  dependency,  as  Canada  is  now  subject  to  the 
British  Government,  and  Oregon  might  now  be  settled 
by  a  people  speaking  Spanish  or  German ! 

But  many  events  bearing  the  mark  of  special  divine 
interposition  occurred,  the  chief  of  which  was  the  alarm- 
ing situation  in  which  Napoleon  Bonaparte  found  him- 
self in  1803  because  of  the  probability  that  he  would 
soon  be  involved  in  a  war  with  England,  in  which  case 
he  could  foresee  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to 
hold  the  Louisiana  possessions  in  America.     It  was  most 

29 


30  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

fortunate  for  the  future  of  the  United  States  that  at  this 
particular  time  Jefferson,  then  President,  was  anxious 
lo  purchase  New  Orleans,  as  a  means  of  insuring  the 
free  navigation  of  the  Mississippi,  and  the  Floridas.  To 
negotiate  for  this  purchase  he  sent  envoys  to  France  in 
1603,  ^vho,  upon  their  arrival,  found  that  the  Marquis 
de  Marbois,  the  French  councillor  representing  Napo- 
leon, had  already  been  instructed  to  sell  the  whole  of 
Louisiana  to  the  United  States — for  the  reason  outlined 
above.  The  following  extract  from  Napoleon's  instruc- 
tions to  his  representative  fully  discloses  his  motives  in 
that  very  surprising  move  on  the  world's  political  chess- 
board. .Speaking  of  the  evident  purposes  of  the  Eng- 
lish he  said : 

They  shall  not  have  the  Mississippi,  vsiiich  they 
covet.  The  conquest  of  Louisiana  would  be  easy  if 
they  only  took  the  trouble  to  make  a  descent  there. 
I  have  not  a  moment  to  lose  in  putting  it  out  of 
their  reach.  I  think  of  ceding  it  to  the  United 
States.  They  ask  of  me  one  town  in  Louisiana,  but  I 
already  consider  the  colony  as  entirely  lost,  and  it 
appears  to  me  that  in  the  hands  of  this  growing 
power  it  will  be  more  useful  to  the  policy,  and  even 
to  the  commerce,  of  France  than  if  I  should  attempt 
to  keep  it. 

After    further   consideration   he    decided    the    matter 
definitely  in  these   words: 

it  is  not  only  New  Orleans  that  I  will  cede,  it  is 
the  whole  colony  without  reservation.  To  attempt 
to  hold  it  would  be  folly.  I  direct  you  to  negotiat 
this  ofifer  with  the  envoys  of  the  United  States.  I 
will  be  moderate,  in  the  consideration  of  the  neces- 
sity in  which  I  am  of  making  a  sale,  but  keep  this  to 
yourself. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  follow  this  most  interesting  story, 
of  such  vital  importance  to  the  future  of  the  United 
States  and  resulting  in  such  benefits  to  the  human  race, 
further  than  to  add  that  Livingstone  and  Monroe,  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  31 

American  representatives  at  Paris,  were  thunderstruck 
by  the  stupendous  possibiHties  which  the  situation  opened 
to  their  country.  But  as  they  had  instructions  to  pur- 
chase only  New  Orleans  and  the  Floridas  they  hesitated 
to  accept  Napoleon's  proposition,  magnificent  as  it  was. 
Jefferson  was  fearful  that  his  representatives  Vv^ould  not 
be  able  even  to  succeed  in  arranging  terms  for  the  pur- 
chase of  New  Orleans.  Knowing  this,  they  were 
astounded  to  find  themselves  upon  their  arrival  with 
nearly  all  of  the  western  half  of  the  continent  literally 
thrust  upon  them  at  the  nominal  price  of  fifteen  million 
dollars!  And  as  both  were  political  disciples  of  Jeffer- 
son in  his  strict  construction  of  the  Constitution,  as 
opposed  to  that  of  Washington  and  Hamilton,  they  of 
course  understood  that  a  great  obstacle  would  be  en- 
countered upon  their  return  to  the  United  States  with  so 
vast  an  empire  added  unconstitutionally  to  the  national 
domain. 

But  luckily,  being  far-seeing  statesmen,  and  probably 
understanding  the  statesmanship  of  their  chief  in  its 
adaptability  to  circumstances  which  promised  well  for 
the  future,  they  accepted  Napoleon's  proposition  and 
returned  to  Washington  with  an  agreement  duly  signed, 
the  chief  clause  of  which  read  as  follows: 

The  colony  or  province  of  Louisiana  is  ceded  by 
France  to  the  United  States,  with  all  its  rights  and 
appurtenances,  as  fully  and  in  the  same  manner  as 
they  have  been  acquired  by  the  French  Republic,  by 
virtue  of  the  third  article  of  the  treaty  concluded  by 
His  Catholic  Majesty  at  St.  Ildephonso  of  the  ist  of 
October,   1800. 

Although  the  popular  notion  is  that  Jefferson  was 
aggressively  favorable  to  the  acquisition  of  the  Louisiana 
territory,  history  proves  that  he  never  seriously  dreamed 
of  such  an  accomplishment  even  as  a  remote  possibility, 
and  that  no  man  was  more  surprised  than  he  when  he 
learned  what  his  representatives  had  done.  And  he  was 
inwardly  as  well  pleased  as  he  was  surprised,  for  with 


32  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

his  great  perspicacity  he  could  readily  foresee  the  bound- 
less advantages  which  would  be  derived  by  the  United 
States  in  the  years  to  come  from  the  addition  of  this 
vast  region. 

Jefferson's  first  difficulty,  however,  was  not  to  disown 
the  act  of  his  emissaries  but  to  devise  some  way  of  jus- 
tifying it.  To  do  so  he  must  revise  his  political  doctrine 
of  a  strictly  interpreted  Constitution,  and  this  he  at 
once  set  to  work  to  bring  about.  He  found  the  situation 
perplexing,  but  his  resources  were  as  boundless  as  those 
of  the  country  whose  servant  he  was.  He  began  imme- 
diately to  write  letters  to  his  closest  friends,  explaining 
and  excusing  his  change  of  doctrine.  He  first  seriously 
proposed  the  submission  of  an  amendment  to  the  Consti- 
tution which  would  specifically  legalize  the  purchase  of 
Louisiana,  and  by  that  means  harmonize  his  political 
preaching  with  his  political  practices.  But  his  most  con- 
fidential associates  advised  him  to  remain  quiet  on  the 
general  phase  of  the  difficulty  and  to  depend  upon  the 
public  approval  of  the  step  as  a  means  of  escaping  from 
the  legal  tangle  which  his  conscience  was  inclined  to 
recognize  and  magnify.  To  a  friend  Jefferson  wrote  at 
this  time: 

The  less  that  is  said  about  any  constitutional  diffi- 
culty the  better.  ...  It  will  be  necessary  for 
Congress  to  do  what  is  necessary  in  silence.  . 
Whatever  Congress  shall  think  it  necessary  to  do 
should  be  done  with  as  little  debate  as  possible,  and 
particularly  so  far  as  respects  the  constitutional  dif- 
ficulty. 

In  another  letter  he  said : 

Congress  has  made  no  provision  for  holding  foreign 
territory,  still  less  for  incorporating  foreign  nations 
into  our  Union.  The  Executive,  in  seizing  the  fugi- 
tive occurrence  which  so  much  advances  the  good  of 
their  country,  have  done  an  act  beyond  the  Constitu- 
tion. The  Legislature,  in  casting  behind  them  meta- 
physical difficulties,  and  risking  themselves  like  faith- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  33 

fill  servants,  must  ratify  and  pay  for  it  and  throw 
themselves  on  the  country  for  doing  for  them  un- 
authorized what  they  knew  they  would  have  done  for 
themselves  had  they  been  in  a  situation  to  do  it.  It 
is  the  case  of  a  guardian  investing  the  money  of  his 
ward  in  purchasing  an  important  adjacent  territory, 
and  saying  to  him  when  of  age :  "I  did  this  for  your 
good.  I  pretend  to  no  right  to  bind  you ;  you  may 
disavow  me  and  I  will  get  out  of  the  scrape  as  well 
as  I  can.  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  risk  myself  for 
you."  But  we  shall  not  be  disavowed  by  the  nation, 
and  their  act  of  indemnity  will  confirm  and  not 
weaken  the  Constitution  by  more  strongly  marking 
out  its  lines. 

Jefferson  w^as  one  of  the  most  prolific  letter-writers  of 
his  or  any  other  day,  and  these  brief  extracts  are  but 
samples  of  his  activity  in  urging  his  friends  to  believe 
that  the  Constitution  would  survive  this  sudden  shock. 
His  versatility  is  exhibited  in  his  characterization  of  the 
opportunity  to  violate  his  previous  interpretation  of  the 
Constitution  as  a  "fugitive  occurrence"  which  the 
"Executive  have  seized,"  the  latter  expression,  which 
would  not  be  considered  grammatical  in  these  days,  being 
in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  kings  and  other  rulers 
of  the  previous  century,  and  not  at  that  time  discarded 
by  those  so  recently  divorced  from  the  forms  of  the  Old 
World  governments. 

One  of  the  really  humorous  incidents  of  history  is 
afforded  by  the  diplomatic  somersaults  of  Jefferson  in 
connection  with  the  acquisition  of  Louisiana.  The  ex- 
pression "fugitive  occurrence"  was  a  gem  in  its  line  and 
fitly  defines  the  justification  which  all  great  figures  in 
governmental  and  religious  reforms  present  by  way  of 
vindication  when  they  have  applied  the  stiletto  to  estab- 
lished and  perhaps  tyrannical  customs. 

But  under  the  tactful  guidance  of  Jefferson  the  little 
tempest  blew  over.  Congress  ratified  the  treaty  of  acqui- 
sition "with  as  little  debate  as  possible,"  though  while  it 
lasted  the  discussion  was  warm  and  almost  furious.  In 
order  to  pass  rapidly  over  this  historical  feature  of  the 


34  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

first  movement,  which  resulted  in  the  final  acquisition 
of  the  whole  western  part  of  the  continent,  including  ulti- 
mately the  Oregon  country,  I  shall  quote  but  a  single  para- 
graph of  a  single  speech  of  the  many  made  in  Congress 
in  opposition  to  legalizing  the  action  of  Jefferson  in  the 
Louisiana  Purchase.  When  the  ([uestion  of  ratification 
was  before  Congress,  Senator  James  White,  of  Delaware, 
one  of  the  most  influential  members  of  that  body,  said: 

"But  as  to  Louisiana,  this  new,  immense,  unbounded 
world,  if  it  should  ever  be  incorporated  into  the  Union, 
of  which  I  have  no  idea,  can  only  be  done  by  amending 
the  Constitution,  I  believe  it  would  be  the  greatest 
curse  that  could  at  present  befall  us.  It  may  be  pro- 
ductive of  innumerable  evils,  and  especially  of  one  that 
I  fear  ever  to  look  upon.  Thus  our  citizens  will  be  re- 
moved to  the  immense  distance  of  two  or  three  thou- 
sand miles  from  the  Capital  of  the  Union,  where  they 
will  scarcely  ever  feel  the  rays  of  the  General  Govern- 
ment ;  affections  will  become  alienated ;  they  will  grad- 
ually begin  to  view  us  as  strangers ;  they  will  form 
other  commercial  connections  and  our  interests  will 
become  extinct.  .  .  .  And  I  do  say  that  under 
existing  circumstances,  even  supposing  that  this  extent 
of  territory  was  a  desirable  acquisition,  fifteen  millions 
of  dollars  is  a  most  enormous  sum  to  give." 

All  of  which,  after  a  century  of  development  of  this 
supposedly  "worthless  territory,"  appears  absurdly  ridicu- 
lous. It  is  amazing  that  even  then  an  intelligent  man 
should  have  entertained  so  immature  a  conception  of  the 
great  country  which  the  Louisiana  Purchase  included. 
To-day  every  heart-throb  of  the  nation,  having  its  incep- 
tion at  Washington,  is  felt  as  keenly  and  responded  to  as 
quickly  at  any  point  on  the  Pacific  Coast  as  at  Boston  or 
Richmond.  By  snatching  a  "fugitive  occurrence"  and 
abandoning  his  former  narrow  conception  of  the  powers 
of  the  General  Government,  Jefferson  performed,  or 
accepted,  an  act  which  was  second  in  importance  in  his 
great  career  only  to  the  writing  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence. 


CHAPTER  V 

But  the  acquisition  of  the  Northwest  was  yet  to  be 
accompHshed,  though,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  until 
little  more  than  ten  years  ago  the  belief  was  quite  gener- 
ally entertained  by  the  American  public  that  the  territory 
embraced  in  the  Louisiana  Purchase  included  all  that 
lying  between  the  Mississippi  River  and  the  Pacific  Coast, 
notwithstanding  that  the  historical  facts  bearing  upon  the 
case  were  accessible  to  and  should  have  been  understood 
by  everybody.  Even  the  official  map  issued  by  the  Gen- 
eral Land  Office  as  late  as  1898  so  represented  the  matter. 
The  question  coming  to  the  notice  of  Hon.  Binger  Her- 
mann, then  the  Commissioner  in  the  Land  Department, 
and  for  the  twelve  previous  years  a  member  of  Congress 
from  Oregon,  that  gentleman  compiled  from  the  official 
records  the  exact  history  of  the  treaty  with  France  and 
published  a  correct  map  showing  that  all  of  Oregon, 
Washington,  Idaho,  and  parts  of  Montana  and  Wyoming 
were  secured  to  the  United  States  in  after  years  by  the 
enforcement  of  rights  obtained  through  discovery  in 
1792,  exploration  in  1804-5  '^7  Lewis  and  Clark,  occupa- 
tion by  American  settlers,  and,  finally,  by  treaties  with 
England.  Indeed,  the  western  boundary  of  the  Louis- 
iana Purchase  was  not  defined  in  the  terms  of  the  cession, 
since  Napoleon  himself  did  not  know  where  it  rightfully 
belonged.  When  questioned  concerning  this  important 
feature  of  the  transaction  by  the  American  representa- 
tives, Marbois  referred  the  matter  to  Napoleon  and  ex- 
pressed his  regret  that  the  western  boundary  of  Louis- 
iana should  be  so  "obscure."  To  this  the  Man  of  Destiny 
gave  a  reply  which  was  eminently  characteristic,  to  wit, 
that  "if  an  obscurity  does  not  exist  already,  it  would, 
perhaps,  be  good  policv  to  put  one  there."  So,  with 
this  indefinite  understanding  as  to  what  the  United  States 

'35 


36  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

was  getting  for  its  tifteen-million-doHar  investment,  the 
country  was  accepted  and  the  details  were  afterward 
worked  out  as  circumstances  and  responsibihty  demanded. 
Fortunately  this  process  recjuired  no  bloodshed,  and  in 
the  course  of  time  the  United  States  came  into  its  own 
through  the  occurrence  of  a  chain  of  events  which  those 
not  too  skeptical  are  justified  in  believing  were  ordered 
by  the  decrees  of  a  Providence  that  looks  after  the 
ultimate  welfare  of  the  human  race. 

Having  satisfied  his  conscience  as  to  the  constitution- 
ality of  the  proceeding  which  made  the  most  of  a  "fugi- 
tive occurrence,"  Jefferson  at  once  conceived  the  Lewis 
and  Clark  expedition  and  lost  no  time  in  getting  the 
movement  under  actual  headway. 

Jefferson's  undoubted  ability  as  a  statesman  was  exem- 
plified in  his  proposed  organization  of  the  Lewis  and 
Clark  expedition  even  before  the  acquisition  of  Louis- 
iana was  accomplished — before  he  had  even  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing  as  a  possibility.  He  had  no  knowledge  of 
the  action  of  the  American  representatives  at  Paris  until 
their  return  to  Washington  in  July,  1803.  ^"d  the  treaty 
of  acquisition  was  not  ratified  by  Congress  until  the  20th 
of  the  following  October.  In  the  previous  January  he 
had  asked  Congress  to  provide  an  adequate  appropriation 
for  an  expedition  to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River, 
by  way  of  the  headwaters  of  the  Missouri,  and  that  body 
had  generously  granted  his  request.  This  is  related  here 
for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  Jefferson,  in  inaugurat- 
ing the  Lewis  and  Clark  expedition,  had  no  thought  that 
the  great  Northwestern  territory  belonged  to  the  United 
States  through  the  purchase  of  Louisiana,  or  for  any 
other  reason.  Indeed,  he  had  argued  in  favor  of  some 
such  procedure  a  dozen  years  before,  while  Secretary  of 
State  under  President  Washington. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that  his  perspicacity 
led  him  to  see  the  great  advantages  which  would  ulti- 
mately come  to  the  United  States  if  its  territory  could 
be  made  co-extensive  with  the  continent,  and  that  it  was 
in  accordance  with  this  idea  that  he  was  anxious  to  have 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  37 

American  representatives  in  the  field  of  exploration  with 
the  purpose  of  establishing  prior  rights.  When  we  con- 
sider the  great  activity  of  Jefferson  in  the  matter  of 
acquiring  new  territory,  together  with  the  ease  with 
which  he  surrendered  his  previous  contention  for  a  strict 
construction  of  the  Federal  Constitution  that  the  country 
might  expand  in  landed  area,  one  may  well  believe  that 
if  he  had  been  actively  in  the  flesh  during  the  past 
twenty  years  he  would  have  aligned  himself  with  the 
pronounced  "expansionists."  The  history  of  his  time 
fairly  bristles  with  evidence  of  his  anxiety  to  acquire  Cuba 
as  a  part  of  our  domain,  and  in  1807  (August  10),  during 
his  second  term  as  President,  he  wrote  to  Madison,  his 
Secretary  of  State,  discussing  the  possibility  of  war  with 
England,  as  follows : 

I  would  rather  have  war  with  Spain  than  not,  if 
we  are  to  go  to  war  against  England.  Our  southern 
defenses  can  take  care  of  the  Floridas,  volunteers 
from  the  Mexican  army  will  flock  to  our  standard 
and  rich  pabulum  will  be  offered  to  our  privateers  in 
the  plunder  of  their  commerce  and  coasts ;  probably 
Cuba  would  add  itself  to  our  confederation. 

Two  years  later  he  again  wrote  to  Madison,  who  was 
then  President,  as  follows : 

That  Napoleon  would  give  us  the  Floridas  to  with- 
hold intercourse  with  the  residue  of  these  colonies 
cannot  be  doubted,  but  that  is  no  price,  for  they  are 
ours  the  first  moment  of  the  first  war;  but,  although 
with  difficulty,  he  will  consent  to  our  receiving  Cuba 
into  our  Union  to  prevent  our  aid  to  Mexico  and  other 
provinces.  That  will  be  a  price,  and  I  would  immedi- 
ately erect  a  column  on  the  southernmost  limits  of 
Cuba  and  inscribe  on  it  a  ne  plus  ultra  as  to  us  in 
that  direction.  We  should  then  only  have  to  include 
the  North  in  our  confederacy,  which  would  be,  of 
course,  in  the  first  war,  and  we  should  have  such  an 
empire  for  liberty  as  she  has  never  surveyed  since 
the  creation,  and  I  am  convinced  that  no  Constitution 


38  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

was  ever  before  so  well  calculated  as  ours  for  exten- 
sive emjMre  and  self-governinent. 

All  of  which  is  worth  knowing  and  remembering  as 
very  important  features  of  the  great  movements  which, 
in  the  aggregate,  resulted  in  the  acquisition  of  territory 
which  gi\'es  us  practically  three  times  the  area  that  we 
claimed  at  the  close  of  the  Revolution.  And  it  is  also 
interesting  to  note  the  opposition  which  has  always  been 
made  to  such  expansion,  even  by  men  who,  in  the  phrase 
of  the  day,  should  have  known  better.  The  acquisition 
of  the  "Oregon  Country" — by  which  term  was  known 
almost  all  that  region  north  of  California  and  New 
Mexico  and  west  of  the  Rocky  ^vlountains — was  not  to 
be  merely  a  "fugitive  occurrence."  since  the  first  serious 
consideration  of  the  matter  was  taken  by  Congress  in 
1825.  President  Monroe  having  recommended  that  a 
military  post  be  established  "at  or  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  River,"  the  purpose  of  which  w-as  not  to  declare 
our  title  to  the  country  but  to  protect  "our  increased  and 
increasing  fisheries  on  the  Pacific."  A  bill  was  introduced 
at  once  in  the  House  complying  with  the  President's 
request  and,  in  addition  to  the  main  purpose  of  it,  pro- 
vision was  made  for  granting  each  settler  one  mile  square 
of  land,  a  forerunner  l)y  a  full  quarter  of  a  century  of 
the  Donation  Land  Act.  which  l)ecame  a  law  in  1850. 

This  bill  evoked  such  a  curious  debate,  manifesting 
the  crude  conception  which  many  of  our  statesmen  had 
of  this  Western  country  at  that  time,  that  I  quote  a  few 
samples  which  will  illustrate  what  we  have  had  to  "come 
up  through"  in  the  exploitation  of  what  is  really  one  of 
the  finest  sections  of  the  globe  for  the  development  of 
that  which  is  best  in  men  and  women. 

Among  the  most  prominent  and  sagacious  men  who 
took  an  active  part  in  the  debate  on  the  Oregon  bill  in  the 
session  of  1824-5  was  James  Barbour,  a  Senator  from 
Virginia,  who,  after  insisting  that  England  had  no  claim 
nor  title  to  the  Northwestern  country,  devoted  himself  to 
answering  the  statement  that  it  was  worthless  anyway, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  39 

and  that  so  vast  a  country  annexed  to  the  United  States 
would  not  only  make  our  government  unwieldy,  but 
would  present  a  real  menace  to  its  perpetuity.  Concern- 
ing this  phase  of  the  matter,  he  said: 

Fifty  years  ago  and  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi 
was  like  the  present  condition  of  the  country  of  the 
Oregon.  It  is  now  teeming  with  a  mighty  popula- 
tion— a  free  and  happy  people.  Their  march  onward 
to  the  country  of  the  setting  sun  is  irresistible.  I  will 
not  disguise  that  I  look  with  deepest  anxiety  on  this 
vast  extension  of  our  empire  and  to  its  possible  effect 
on  our  political  institutions.  Whatever  they  may  be, 
however,  our  forefathers  decided  that  the  experiment 
should  be  made.  Our  advance  in  political  science  has 
already  cancelled  the  dogmas  of  theory.  W'e  have 
already  ascertained,  that  by  the  happy  combination 
of  national  and  state  governments,  but  above  all  by 
a  wise  arrangement  of  the  representatives  system, 
republics  are  not  necessarily  limited  to  a  small  terri- 
tory, and  that  a  government  thus  arranged  not  only 
produces  more  happiness,  but  more  stability  and  more 
energy  than  those  most  arbitrary.  Whether  it  is 
capable  of  indefinite  extent  must  be  left  to  posterity 
to  decide.  But,  in  the  most  unfavorable  result, 
a  division,  by  necessity,  from  its  unwieldy  extent — 
an  event,  I  would  devoutly  hope  afar  off — we  even 
then  can  console  ourselves  with  the  reflection  that  all 
parts  of  the  great  whole  will  have  been  peopled  by 
our  kindred,  carrying  with  them  the  same  language, 
habits  and  inextinguishable  devotion  to  liberty  and 
republican  institutions. 

This  was  the  language  of  a  statesman,  of  a  man  who 
had  studied  governments  and  people,  and  who  was  suffi- 
ciently free  from  prejudice  to  take  a  higher  view  of  a 
great  opportunity. 

Senator  Dickerson  of  New  Jersey  was  the  leader  of 
the  opposition  to  the  effort  to  provide  for  a  military  post 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia.  He  was  certain  that,  since 
England  and  the  United  States  had  signed  a  treaty  in 
1 81 8,  according  to  the  terms  of  which  both  countries 


40  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

should  occupy  the  Oregon  country  without  claiming  title 
thereto,  the  proposed  bill,  if  passed,  would  be  considered 
as  a  hostile  act  by  Great  Britain  and  would  probably 
result  in  war.  Senator  Dickerson  then  turned  his  shafts 
of  ridicule  upon  the  proposition  to  acquire  Oregon  in  any 
manner,  and  closed  his  speech  with  a  remarkable  exhibi- 
tion of  misinformation  regarding  a  section  of  our  com- 
mon country  which  is  bound  in  the  course  of  events  to 
become  one  of  its  most  attractive  and  valuable  sub- 
divisions. Fully  twenty  years  after  the  wonderful  jour- 
ney of  Lewis  and  Clark  and  fourteen  years  after  the 
settlement  of  .\storia.  Senator  Dickerson  displayed  his 
lack  of  foresight  as  to  the  character  of  the  Pacific  Coast 
and  of  the  genius  of  the  American  people  by  the  follow- 
ing amusing  calculations  and  side-splitting  predictions. 
Estimating  the  distance  from  Washington  to  Oregon 
to  be  four  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  he  said : 

But  is  this  Territory  of  Oregon  ever  to  become  a 
State?  Never!  The  distance  that  a  member  of 
Congress  from  this  State  of  Oregon  will  be  obliged 
to  travel  in  coming  to  tlie  seat  of  government,  and  re- 
turning, will  be  nine  thousand  three  hundred  miles. 
This,  at  the  rate  of  eight  dollars  for  every  twenty 
miles  would  make  his  traveling  expenses  amount  to 
three  thousand  seven  hundred  and  twenty  dollars. 
Every  member  of  Congress  ought  to  see  his  con- 
stituents at  least  once  a  year.  This  is  already  very 
difficult  for  those  in  the  remote  parts  of  the  Union. 
At  the  rate  which  members  of  Congress  travel  accord- 
ing to  law,  tiiat  is,  twenty  miles  per  day,  it  would  re- 
quire to  come  to  the  seat  of  government  and  return 
four  hundred  and  sixty-five  days.  But  if  he  should 
travel  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  a  day,  it  would  re- 
quire three  hundred  and  six  days.  Allowing  for  Sun- 
days, forty-four  days,  it  would  require  three  hundred 
and  six  days.  This  would  allow  the  member  a  fort- 
night to  rest  himself  at  Washington  before  commenc- 
ing his  journey  home.  This  rate  of  traveling  would 
be  a  hard  duty,  as  the  greater  part  of  the  way  is 
exceedingly  bad  and  a  portion  of  it  over  the  rugged 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  41 

mountains,  where  Lewis  and  Clark  found  several 
feet  of  snow  in  the  latter  part  of  June.  Yet,  a  young, 
able-bodied  Senator  might  travel  from  Oregon  to 
Washington  and  back  once  a  year,  but  he  could  do 
nothing  else.  It  would  be  more  expeditious,  however, 
to  come  by  water  around  Cape  Horn,  or  through 
Behring's  Strait,  around  the  north  coast  of  the  conti- 
nent to  Baffin's  Bay,  through  Davis  Strait  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  and  thus  on  to  Washington.  It  is 
true  that  this  passage  is  not  yet  discovered,  except  on 
the  maps,  but  it  will  be  as  soon  as  Oregon  will  be  a 
State. 

The  fallibility  of  the  human  judgment  is  well  illus- 
trated by  a  glance  at  the  industrial  condition  now  pre- 
vailing in  all  parts  of  the  Oregon  Country,  in  connection 
with  this  prediction  of  Senator  Dickerson.  Of  course 
that  speech  was  made  eighty-six  years  ago,  and  that  is  a 
long  way  to  look  into  the  future  with  any  degree  of  cer- 
tainty, yet  there  were  those  at  that  time  who  had  the  most 
exalted  opinion  of  the  possibilities  and  value  of  the  region 
in  controversy.  Among  these  was  Jefferson  himself,  who 
soon  after  the  close  of  the  Revolution  began  to  cast  his 
eye  west  of  the  Mississippi  and  to  covet  all  the  country 
lying  between  that  stream  and  the  Pacific  Ocean.  But 
the  man  who  was  one  of  the  earliest  champions  of  Oregon 
and  who  accomplished  more  than  any  other  when  it  came 
before  the  public  as  a  matter  to  be  disposed  of  one  way 
or  the  other,  was  Thomas  H.  Benton,  of  Missouri.  But 
for  his  unceasing  championship  of  the  right  of  the  United 
States  to  the  whole  of  the  Northwest,  and  his  faith  in  its 
great  industrial  and  commercial  value  after  it  should  be 
settled  by  the  American  people,  it  is  quite  among  the 
possibilities  that  England  finally  might  have  succeeded  in 
obtaining  title  to  it. 

The  State  of  Oregon  contains  only  about  one-fourth 
of  the  area  of  the  original  Oregon  Country  (the  re- 
mainder being  composed  of  the  States  of  Washington  and 
Idaho  and  parts  of  Montana  and  Wyoming)  yet  Oregon 
alone  now  produces  not  far  from  two  millions  of  dollars 


42  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

in  gold  each  year;  its  annual  wool  clip  amounts  to  four 
millions  of  dollars,  its  wheat  fifteen  millions  and  its  sal- 
mon one  million.  Its  other  industries  already  developed 
cover  perhaps  a  greater  variety,  owing  to  its  wonderful 
climate  and  soil,  than  any  other  State  in  the  Union.  It  has 
more  standing  timber  of  the  best  quality  than  any  other 
State,  and  Portland,  with  over  two  hundred  thousand 
population,  stands  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  cities  in  the 
United  vStates  as  an  exporter  of  wheat. 

In  view  of  this  condition,  while  the  exploitation  of  its 
natural  resources  is  yet  in  its  infancy,  the  extract  from 
the  speech  of  Senator  Dickerson  in  1825  makes  good 
reading  and  is  well  worth  a  place  in  this  rapid  review  of 
events  which  preceded  the  final  lejjislation  that  established 
a  territorial  form  of  government  for  Oregon.  After  a 
protracted  debate,  a  bill  for  this  purpose  was  passed  on 
Sunday  morning,  August  13,  1848.  The  treaty  of  181 8. 
providing  for  joint  occupancy,  was  terminated  by  the 
mutual  consent  of  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States 
in  1846,  after  a  life  of  eighteen  years,  and  as  the  result 
of  satisfactory  concessions  the  whole  of  the  Oregon 
Country  became  American  territory. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  in  passing,  that  one  of  the 
greatest  forensic  efforts  of  John  C.  Calhoun  was  made 
in  the  Senate  in  opposition  to  the  bill  admitting  Oregon 
as  a  territory,  for  the  reason  that  it  did  not  specifically 
provide  for  the  introduction  of  slavery  within  its  boun- 
daries. In  the  course  of  this  speech  he  bitterly  assailed 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  among  other  things, 
said: 

The  proposition  that  "all  men  are  created  free  and 
equal"  is  a  hypothetical  truism.  Men  are  not  born 
free.  Infants  are  born.  They  grow  to  be  men.  They 
are  not  born  free.  While  infants,  they  are  incapable 
of  freedom ;  they  are  subject  to  their  parents.  All 
men  are  not  created.  Only  two,  a  man  and  a  woman, 
were  created,  and  one  of  these  was  pronounced  sub- 
ordinate to  the  other.  All  others  have  come  into  the 
world  by  being  born,  and  in  no  sense,  as  I  have  shown, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  43 

either  free  or  equal.  Instead  of  liberty  and  equality 
being  born  with  men,  and  instead  of  all  men  and  classes 
being  entitled  to  them,  they  are  high  prizes  to  be 
won — rewards  bestowed  on  moral  and  mental  develop- 
ment. 

But  in  spite  of  Mr.  Calhoun's  false  philosophy  and 
Mr.  Dickerson's  skepticism,  Oregon  became  a  Territory. 
Ten  years  afterward  she  became  a  State — the  final  result 
of  a  contest  that  occupied  the  attention  of  our  greatest 
statesmen  for  more  than  thirty  years,  which  in  many  of 
its  characteristics  was  without  historic  parallel,  and  which 
was  illuminated  by  a  series  of  unusually  dramatic  and 
romantic  features.  These  will  be  noticed  briefly  in  suc- 
ceeding chapters  while  considering  the  wonderful  west- 
ward movement  of  the  Oregon  pioneer — a  mo^•ement 
which  has  no  counterpart  in  history  as  a  peaceful  subjti- 
gation  of  a  beautiful  wilderness,  peopled  by  savages  and 
under  the  protection  of  no  nation ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

In  order  that  the  readers  of  this  book  may  be  able  to 
famiharize  themselves  with  the  principal  facts  relating  to 
the  early  settlement  of  Oregon  without  wading  through 
the  unimportant  details,  it  is  well  to  say,  briefly,  that  the 
first  earnest  and  practical  effort  in  that  direction  was 
made  by  Hall  J.  Kelley,  a  school-teacher  of  Boston,  who 
as  early  as  1817  began  to  agitate  the  matter  in  the 
periodicals  of  his  day  and  by  degrees  developed  some 
interest  in  the  scheme  among  certain  people  of  Massachu- 
setts. But  in  181 7  Oregon  was  almost  as  inaccessible  as 
the  North  Pole  is  to-day,  for  the  value  of  pemmican  as 
a  concentrated  life  sustainer  was  not  then  known,  and  Dr. 
Cook  had  not  yet  begun  taking  photographs  of  "the  top 
of  the  continent." 

But  Kelley  was  an  enthusiast  on  the  subject  of  the 
Oregon  Country,  and  persistently  continued  his  agitation 
until,  in  1829,  as  the  result  of  his  work,  Massachusetts 
authorized  the  incorporation  of  "The  American  Society 
for  the  Settlement  of  the  Oregon  Territory."  And  that 
was  a  long  time  ago.  Amid  the  swirl  and  whirl  of  these 
days,  when  the  Oregon  River  so  weirdly  referred  to  in 
Bryant's  "Thanatopsis,"  instead  of  gliding  to  the  sea 
undisturbed  save  by  the  "sound  of  its  own  dashings,"  is 
continually  vexed  by  the  thunderous  and  ponderous  trains 
of  two  transcontinental  railroads,  one  on  either  bank, 
answering  the  tremendous  demands  of  national  and  inter- 
national trade,  one  can  with  difficulty  realize  the  tempera- 
ment of  a  man  who,  while  the  whole  of  the  Pacific  Coast 
was  yet  a  wilderness  unsubdued,  would  unceasingly 
devote  all  his  energies  to  the  accomplishment  of  what  to 
most  people  seemed  a  mere  dream,  a  hope  without  a  foun- 
dation. 

Many  of  the  men,  more  or  less  prominent  in  the  affairs 
of  the  Oregon  country  in  the  early  days,  have  received 

44 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  45 

extended  mention  in  its  history  whose  part  in  its  acquisi- 
tion and  development  was  incomparably  less  helpful  than 
was  that  of  Hall  J.  Kelley.  For  he  was  the  Pioneer  of 
the  pioneers.  He  was  the  John  the  Baptist  who  could 
foresee  an  historical  coming  event,  devoting  his  life-work 
to  its  exploitation;  and,  like  the  great  prophet  of  old, 
upon  finally  entering  the  land  of  promise  he  saw  so 
gloriously  portrayed  in  his  visions,  he  was  misused,  mis- 
treated and  misunderstood.  He  started  to  Oregon  in 
1832,  coming  by  w-ay  of  New  Orleans  across  Mexico  and 
to  California,  where  he  offered  to  survey  the  Sacramento 
valley  for  the  Mexican  Governor.  Being  refused,  he 
did  some  work  in  that  line  upon  his  own  responsibility 
and  finally  joined  an  overland  expedition  to  Oregon, 
arriving  at  Vancouver  in  October,  1834,  two  years  after 
his  departure  from  Boston. 

Kelley  made  the  trip  from  California  with  Ewing 
Young,  a  man  who  afterward  figured  prominently  in  the 
progress  of  our  embryonic  government.  Their  arrival  un- 
fortunately was  attended  by  a  cloud  which  cast  a  shadow 
over  Kelley's  connection  with  the  country  and,  in  a  way, 
embittered  the  remainder  of  his  life.  In  company  with 
Kelley  and  Young,  who  brought  a  large  drove  of  horses, 
were  some  reckless  individuals  w-ho  in  some  way  "ac- 
quired" several  head  not  catalogued  in  the  original  list.  The 
result  of  this  maneuver  was  that  the  Governor-General  of 
California  sent  word  to  Governor  McLoughlin — head  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  and  virtual  ruler  of  the  Oregon 
Country  in  those  days — of  the  alleged  depredations,  and 
that  the  "thieves"  were  bound  for  the  Columbia  River. 
The  message  of  the  California  Governor,  Figueroa,  hav- 
ing been  received  by  McLoughlin  before  the  arrival  of 
Young  and  Kelley,  they  were  met  by  the  old  white- 
headed,  amiable,  but  eminently  just  Doctor  with  a  cold- 
ness which  was  a  genuine  surprise  to  them,  perfectly 
guiltless  as  they  were  of  any  wrongdoing.  Coming  as 
enthusiastic  explorers  of  a  great  region,  they  were  met 
upon  its  threshold  with  a  charge  of  horse-stealing,  with 
having  arrived    richer   than   they  were   upon   their  de- 


46  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

parture,  which  reminds  one  of  the  declaration  of  Mark 
Twain  to  a  friend  that  his  family,  as  far  back  as  he  had 
any  "inside  information,"  was  noted  for  the  abnormally 
developed  bump  of  "acquisitiveness."  As  an  instance, 
he  said  that  when  his  j^^randparents.  several  generations 
back,  crossed  the  Atlantic  en  route  to  America,  they  were 
able  to  put  all  their  earthly  belongings  in  an  old  carpet- 
sack  satchel,  but  when  they  disembarked  three  weeks 
later  at  New  York  it  required  three  large  trunks  to  hold 
them  all. 

There  has  never  been  any  proof  that  either  Young  or 
Kelley  knew  of  the  alleged  stealing,  but  the  slander  was 
uttered,  and  like  many  other  accusations  made  through 
ignorance  or  malice,  its  efifects  were  difficult  if  not  impos- 
sible to  counteract.  Of  this  affair  Dr.  McLoughlin  said 
in  after  years : 

"I  refused  to  have  communication  with   any  of  the 
party.     Young  maintained  he  had  stolen  no  horses,  but 
admitted  that  others  had.     I  told  him  that  might  be  the 
case,  but,  as  the  charge  had  been  made,  I  could  have  no 
dealings  with  him  until  he  cleared  it  up.     But  he  main- 
tained to  his  countrymen,  and  they  believed,  that,  as  he 
was  a  leader  among  them,  I  acted  as  I  did  from  a  desire 
to  oppose  American  interests."    But  Dr.  McLoughlin,  the 
Grand  Old  Man  of  early  Oregon,  lived  to  know  what  it 
was  to  feel  the  shafts  of  injustice  and  ingratitude  as  the 
reward  for  continued  substantial  assistance  rendered  to 
American  immigrants,  whose  coming  was  the  first  step 
toward  the  ultimate  dissolution  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany, of  which  he  was  the  head  for  quite  twenty  years. 
It  goes  without  saying  that  both  Kelley  and  Young 
were  indignant  at  the  injustice  of  the  accusation  made 
against  them.     Young,  however,  settled  down,  acquired 
a  tract  of  land  and  died  here  in  February,  1841.     In  a 
paper  read  before  the  Oregon  Pioneer  Association  a  few 
years  ago  by  Courtney  M.  Walker,  he  said,  after  declar- 
ing that  Ewing  Young  was  "a  very  candid  and  scrupu- 
lously honest  man,  thoroughgoing,  brave  and  daring," 
that  "being  in  want  of  supplies  and  having  a  few  beaver 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  47 

skins,  he  sent  them  to  Fort  Vancouver  to  exchange  for 
supplies.  But  Dr.  McLoughHn,  having  been  apprised  by 
a  no  less  authority  than  the  Governor-General  of  Cali- 
fornia that  Young  was  the  head  of  banditti,  refused  to 
purchase  the  beaver,  but  sent  Mr.  Young  the  articles 
which  he  had  wished  to  purchase,  besides  sending  him 
several  articles  of  refreshment  for  his  table.  But  when 
the  articles  came  Young  indignantly  refused  to  accept 
the  goods  or  refreshments,  and  went  in  person  to  Van- 
couver. The  Doctor  satisfied  Mr.  Young  that  he  could 
not,  being  at  the  head  of  a  company  trading  directly 
with  California,  have  acted  otherwise  than  to  give 
credence  to  the  charge  by  the  Governor  of  California. 
On  the  return  of  the  Cadboro  to  California  Dr.  McLough- 
lin  wrote  to  the  Governor  of  California,  as  also  did  Mr. 
Young.  The  ensuing  fall  the  Governor  wrote  to  Dr. 
McLoughlin,  withdrawing  the  charges  against  Young 
and  regretting  the  occurrence." 

Hall  Kelley.  after  spending  practically  twenty  years  in 
enthusiastically  advertising  the  Oregon  Country,  re- 
mained here  but  a  few  months,  owing  to  his  unfortunate 
reception,  and  returned  to  Massachusetts  where  he  died 
in  187,^.  In  his  later  days,  when  his  mind  had  become 
partially  clouded,  he  imagined  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
was  pursuing  him  in  a  cruel  effort  to  punish  him  for  his 
exertions  in  colonizing  the  Oregon  Country  and  thus 
destroying  the  fur  industry,  which  was  not  only  the 
source  of  its  entire  income  but  its  only  excuse  for  exist- 
ence. Kelley  died  at  an  advanced  age,  a  hermit,  and 
embittered  against  mankind  in  general. 

In  reading  about  the  career  of  Hall  Jackson  Kelley, 
I  have  always  felt  regret  that  so  little  is  known  of  him 
by  the  people  who  occupy  the  great  country  in  whose 
future  he  had  such  faith.  There  is  something  appealingly 
pathetic  about  his  high  and  unquenchable  purpose  when 
considered  in  connection  with  the  disappointment  which 
accompanied  his  first  and  last  visit  to  the  great  region  of 
which  he  had  dreamed  so  long.  And  so  little  is  known 
of  his  efforts  by  the  people  who  have  profited  by  his  sac- 


48  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

rifices  and  persistent  labors!  Ask  the  average  graduate 
of  any  of  our  colleges  or  universities  who  Hall  J.  Kelley 
was  and  he  will  be  astonished  beyond  measure.  He  does 
not  know  that  such  a  man  ever  lived.  And  there  are 
thousands  of  our  most  successful  business  men  who  can 
"at  the  drop  of  the  hat"  tell  you  who  has  the  best  score 
among  the  crack  baseball  teams  of  the  country,  but  who 
have  never  heard  even  the  name  of  Hall  Kelley.  Scores 
of  men  who  have  had  their  little  day  in  the  State  Legis- 
lature and  have  won  State-wide  attention  by  their  log- 
rolling maneuvers  are  well  known  to  the  public  generally, 
but  the  man  who  perhaps  did  more  to  make  Oregon  than 
any  other,  or  at  least  who  had  as  clear  a  conception  of 
its  value  as  any  other,  has  no  place  in  our  school  histories 
and  is  less  generally  knovv'n  than  is  Pocahontas  or  William 
Tell. 

Kelley  was  impressed  with  the  commercial  opportu- 
nities he  found  in  Oregon.  He  foresaw  the  upbuilding 
of  a  great  city  on  the  Columbia  River.  After  studying 
the  situation,  he  chose  what  is  now  known  as  the  "Penin- 
sula," that  section  between  the  Columbia  and  Willamette 
rivers,  as  the  most  promising  location  for  the  metropolis 
to  come,  and  actually  surveyed  a  town  site  near  the  pres- 
ent dividing  line  between  Portland  and  St.  John.  To-day 
the  cars  of  the  Portland  Railway,  Light  and  Power  Com- 
pany carry  thousands  of  busy  people  every  day  across 
Kelley's  town  site ;  automobile  joy-riders  make  the  night 
hideous  with  their  carousals  as  they  violate  the  "speed" 
laws  while  driving  over  the  very  ground  which  he  trod 
as  he  wended  his  way  through  the  heavy  underbrush 
skirting  the  banks  of  the  Willamette,  which  even  then 
was  answering  the  soft  call  of  the  sea;  lovesick  young 
people  stroll  in  the  moonlit  groves  where  Kelley  heard 
no  sound  except  the  occasional  drum  of  the  pheasant  or 
the  call  of  the  astonished  red  man ;  magnificent  ocean 
steamers  grace  full  v  glide  on  the  bosom  of  the  rivers 
which  then  knew  only  the  rude  canoe ;  the  bustling  town 
of  St.  John  has  its  annual,  semi-annual,  quarterly  and 
perennial  scraps  over  important  and  unimportant  matters 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  49 

where  Kelley  sat  on  a  fallen  log  while  ruminating  on  the 
ingratitude,  not  only  of  republics,  but  of  Tillicums  in  the 
individual  state — but  Kelley  himself  is  practically  un- 
known to  the  people  of  the  land  which  was  his  day- 
dream and  his  song  during  his  younger  manhood,  where 
he  resided  but  a  few  months  of  his  eighty-five  years  of 
life,  and  where,  during  his  brief  residence  he  was  com- 
pelled to  establish  his  innocence  of  the  charge  of  being  a 
horse-thief! 

And  of  such  is  fame! 


CHAPTER   VII 

I  do  not  now  and  never  did  belong  to  the  Methodist 
Church,  but  certainly  no  loyal  Oregonian  breathes  with 
soul  so  dead  as  to  deny  for  a  moment  the  great  obliga- 
tion his  State  owes  to  that  organization  for  its  great 
work  during  the  decade  between  1830  and  1840  in  mak- 
ing the  initial  occupancy  of  the  Oregon  Country.  To  be 
sure,  the  early  Methodist  missionaries  were  governed 
first  by  a  desire  to  convert  the  Indians  to  Christianity — 
vain  elTort.  in  the  main — but  they  were  Americans, 
imbued  with  an  unswerving  attachment  to  their  country's 
institutions,  and  as  a  counter  inliuence  to  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company  wrought  mightily  in  the  great  conflict  which 
finally  brought  victory  to  American  sovereignty. 

No  matter  whether  you  believe  in  the  perseverance  of 
the  saints,  the  administration  of  baptism  by  sprinkling 
or  whether  you  stand  for  complete  immersion ;  no  differ- 
ence if  you  are  a  supporter  of  the  doctrine  of  original 
sin,  foreordination  and  election — even  if  you  are  con- 
firmed in  your  opinion  that  shouting  during  the  culmi- 
nating proceedings  of  a  revival  meeting  is  not  only  inde- 
corous but  bordering  on  the  absurdly  emotional,  you  have 
no  business  to  set  up  your  claim  to  any  degree  of  sincere 
love  for  Oregon's  early  history  if  you  fail  to  take  off 
your  hat  to  a  Methodist  when  you  meet  him,  if  not  for 
his  sake,  then,  at  least,  for  the  sake  of  the  great  religious 
organization  he  represents. 

And  among  those  early  Methodist  missionaries,  head 
and  shoulders  above  all  others  stands  Jason  Lee.  This 
distinction  will  be  unhesitatingly  accorded  him  by  all  his 
church  fellows.  In  effective  work  along  lines  which  bore 
immediate  fruit,  and  which  not  only  required  great  per- 
sonal sacrifices  but  finally  snapped  the  thread  of  his 
strenuous  life,  he  stands  pre-eminent.    He  was  so  wholly 

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FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  51 

in  earnest  and  so  persistently  zealous  in  his  chosen  work 
that  one  might  almost  term  him  a  fanatic,  but  this  would 
be  very  unfair.  He  was  rather  a  man  wrapped  up  in  his 
chosen  work,  and  being  nervously  active  and  full  of  rest- 
less ambition  to  accomplish  his  great  purpose,  he  aban- 
doned all  the  comforts  of  civilization  and  insisted  upon 
being  sent  to  the  wilds  of  distant  and  practically  unknown 
Oregon.  To  be  sure,  Hall  Kelley  had  devoted  nearly 
twenty  years  of  his  life  to  promoting  emigration  to 
Oregon  before  he  finally  came  here,  but  he  remained 
scarcely  six  months;  Lee  on  the  other  hand  founded  a 
mission,  started  a  school  (which  ultimately  became  the 
present  Willamette  University)  at  Salem,  opened  several 
farms,  made  the  first  move  toward  the  agricultural  devel- 
opment of  the  new  country,  and  employed  every  hour  of 
his  time  until  his  unfortunate  death  in  spreading  the 
gospel  not  only  of  religion,  but  of  those  earthly  activities 
which  make  for  the  uplift  of  men  and  women. 

In  all  these  things  it  is  impossible  to  go  beyond  Jason 
Lee  in  Oregon  history.  Back  of  him  there  is  a  void — 
no  schools,  no  churches,  no  agriculture,  no  homes. 
Indeed,  there  was  no  civilization.  There  were  trappers, 
fur-traders,  a  few  white  men  with  native  wives,  adven- 
turers without  purpose  in  life.  But  Lee,  with  his  com- 
panions, P.  L.  Edwards,  Cyrus  Shepherd,  and  his  nephew, 
Daniel  Lee,  joined  the  expedition  guided  by  Nathaniel 
Wyeth  of  Massachusetts,  left  their  homes  in  New  Eng- 
land in  March.  1834,  plunged  into  the  wilderness  on 
the  western  borders  of  Missouri  April  24.  and  arrived 
in  Oregon  October  i.  On  the  sixth  day  of  that  month 
they  pitched  their  tents  on  the  banks  of  the  Willamette 
River,  ten  miles  below  where  Salem  now  is,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  found  the  Methodist  Mission,  from  whence  at 
once  began  to  radiate  the  influences  of  Christianity  for 
the  first  time  in  all  the  Oregon  Country! 

In  paying  this  brief  but  deserved  tribute  to  Jason  Lee 
as  the  first  potent  factor  in  the  development  of  my  be- 
loved native  State.  I  am  reminded  of  a  story  related  by 
Dr.  Whitcomb  Brougher,  until  recently  the  popular  pastor 


52  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  the  White  Temple  Baptist  Church  of  Portland.  He 
had  preached  a  sermon  one  Sunday  in  which  he  referred 
to  the  primitive  Jews  in  a  way  that  called  forth  innumer- 
able protests  from  local  people  of  that  persuasion,  and 
the  daily  papers  were  printing  many  conimunications 
combating  his  interpretation  of  Jewish  characteristics,  as 
portrayed  in  ancient  times.  The  Jewish  paper  in  Port- 
land lent  a  hand  in  the  attack,  with  the  result  that  Dr. 
Brougher  replied  in  a  letter  in  the  Oregonian  which 
bristled  with  a  vigorous  defense;  but  this  only  invited  a 
renewal  of  the  discussion.  Finally,  he  announced  that  on 
the  following  Sunday  he  would  preach  a  sermon,  the 
text  of  which  would  be  the  Jewish  race,  cordially  inviting 
all  the  Hebrews  in  Portland  to  attend.  The  invitation 
was  responded  to  quite  generally,  many  of  the  most 
prominent  Jews  in  the  city  occupying  seats  here  and 
there  throughout  the  congregation. 

Dr.  Brougher  welcomed  them  in  his  introductory  re- 
marks in  that  hospitable  manner  for  which  he  is  justly 
noted,  and  in  the  course  of  his  sermon  highly  eulogized 
the  e.xcellent  qualities  of  Jews  who  have  figured  promi- 
nently in  the  world's  progress  in  politics,  literature, 
science  and  religion.  "And  when  it  comes  to  the  matter 
of  well-established  remote  ancestry,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"the  Jews  have  us  all  beaten  out  of  sight.  Most  of  us 
are  inclined  to  be  vain  if  we  can  trace  our  ancestry  back 
as  much  as  three  generations  on  both  sides  of  the  house ; 
and  if  one  of  us  can  name  his  grandfathers  and  grand- 
mothers in  a  direct  line  for  a  century  he  is  quite  likely  to 
boast  of  the  fact  in  an  insufferably  egotistical  manner. 
But,  no  matter  what  you  can  do  in  that  direction,  don't 
mention  it  when  in  the  presence  of  a  Jew,  for  he  has  you 
skinned  a  mile  in  the  matter  of  ancestry.  He  will  at  once 
refer  you  to  Abraham  or  Moses — and  then  where  are 
you?  You  would  be  like  the  man  who  was  drowned  in 
the  Johnstown  flood,  after  fighting  the  fierce  waves  suc- 
cessfully for  nearly  an  hour.  After  a  most  heroic  effort 
he  nearly  escaped,  but  was  again  overtaken  by  the  surging 
waters.     After  three  victories  over  the  angry  torrent  he 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  53 

was  finally  drawn  under  and  lost  his  life.  Upon  entering 
the  pearly  gates  he  was  quite  a  hero  and  a  crowd  gath- 
ered around  him  to  listen  to  his  narration  of  his  thrilling 
experiences.  When  he  had  finished  describing  how  he 
escaped  the  first  time,  his  listeners  with  one  voice  said : 
'What  a  remarkable  escape !    What  an  awful  experience !' 

"But  an  old  man  who  stood  apart  from  the  others 
merely  said  :  'Oh,  pshaw !' 

"Again  the  man  gave  the  details  of  his  second  success 
over  the  rising  current,  and  the  crowd  repeated  its  excla- 
mations, but  the  old  man  only  said :   'Oh,  pshaw !' 

"When  the  man  had  finished  the  account  of  his  third 
triumph  over  the  swift-running  torrent,  and  had  used  all 
the  adjectives  at  his  command  in  his  portrayal  of  the 
awful  event,  the  audience  again  expressed  its  astonish- 
ment that  any  man  could  have  fought  against  such  odds 
for  so  long  a  time,  but  the  old  man  merely  voiced  his 
increasing  disgust  by  repeating  for  the  third  time :  'Oh, 
pshaw !' 

"At  this  juncture  a  man  who  had  stood  by  and  taken  in 
the  entire  scene  turned  to  St.  Peter  and  said :  'Who  is 
that  old  fellow  over  there  who  says  "Oh,  pshaw"  every 
time  the  man  tells  about  how  he  fought  the  waves  in  the 
Johnstown  flood  for  so  long  a  time  ?' 

"  'Whom  do  you  mean?'  inquired  St.  Peter.  'That  fel- 
low over  there  with  the  long  beard?' 

"  'Yes,'  said  the  man. 

"  'And  you  don't  know  him?'  returned  the  keeper  of 
the  keys.     'Why.  that's  Noah!'" 

Of  course  it  may  seem  somewhat  irreverent  to  couple 
this  story  with  anything  relating  to  a  man  so  very  sedate 
and  serious  as  Jason  Lee,  but  it  aptly  illustrates  the  utter 
tameness  of  the  undertakings  of  those  who  came  to 
Oregon  after  him,  when  we  recall  that  when  he  and 
his  four  companions  made  their  way  up  the  Willamette 
valley  on  that  day  in  October,  1834,  there  was  not  a 
civilized  American  settlement  anywhere  west  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  All  was  wilderness  and  savagery — 
solitude  and  barbarism.      Those  who  came  after  them 


54  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

had  at  least  "The  Mission"  to  give  them  a  welcome  and 
a  temporary  home  until  they  were  able  to  find  a  perma- 
nent location. 

Surely  the  man  who  would  make  the  journey  to  such  a 
country  under  such  conditions  as  then  prevailed,  led  by 
the  motive  which  governed  Jason  Lee,  had  the  zeal  and 
inflexible  purpose  which  should  have  given  him  a  pass- 
port into  that  mysterious  realm  where  the  perseverance 
of  the  saints  is  a  sufficient  warrant  for  unquestioned 
admission ! 

I  have  been  where  the  old  Mission  house  stood  scores 
of  times,  as  the  spot  is  but  fifteen  miles  from  my  birth- 
place and  the  farm  which  was  my  home  for  thirty  years. 
It  was  a  beautiful  location,  about  a  half  a  mile  from  the 
Willamette  River,  and  that  section  has  ever  since  been 
known  as  "Mission  Bottom."  At  present  it  consists  of 
several  large  farms  noted  for  their  wonderful  fertility. 
But  how  different  the  scene  then  and  now — in  1834  and 
in  191 1  !  To-day  there  are  several  extensive  peach 
orchards  on  Mission  Bottom,  one  of  them  being  thirty 
years  old.  During  this  time  it  has  had  but  two  failures — 
from  late  frosts.  Some  ten  years  ago  the  State  Agricul- 
tural Society  offered  a  handsome  premium  for  the  great- 
est variety  of  products  of  the  best  quality  to  be  raised 
on  any  one  farm  in  Oregon,  to  be  exhibited  at  the  State 
Fair.  The  result  was  one  of  the  most  attractive  features 
at  the  Fair  that  fall.  Many  farmers  entered  the  contest, 
but  the  blue  ribbon  went  to  Alex  Lafollette,  one  of  the 
best  farmers  in  Oregon,  whose  land  covers  a  part  of  the 
Old  Mission  where  Jason  Lee  located  in  October,  1834, 
and  where  he  built  his  log  cabin  as  the  first  step  toward 
converting  the  noble  red  man  from  ways  that  are  dark  to 
a  semblance  of  Christianity.  Lafollette's  exhibit  included 
almost  every  variety  of  vegetable,  fruit,  grain  and  grass 
known  to  any  portion  of  the  United  States.  His  premium, 
a  new  Studebaker  wagon,  was  so  gorgeously  finished  and 
varnished  that  he  was  ashamed  to  ride  in  it  or  to  use  it  in 
any  manner. 

When  Jason  Lee  pitched  his  tent  in  the  little  grove  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  55 

fir  trees  beside  which  he  afterward  built  his  cabin,  the 
present  site  of  Portland,  with  its  population  of  more  than 
two  hundred  thousand  people,  was  an  unknown  forest, 
and  where  is  located  the  beautiful  city  of  Salem,  the 
capital  of  the  State,  with  its  magnificent  State  buildings, 
there  was  a  small  prairie  called  by  the  Indians  Chemekete, 
which  was  a  favorite  camping-place  for  such  tribes  as 
were  on  friendly  terms.  At  other  times  and  under  dif- 
ferent conditions  it  afforded  every  facility  for  a  con- 
venient battlefield.  Where  the  State  Hospital  for  the 
Insane  now  shelters  a  thousand  unfortunates,  savage 
tribes  had  for  thousands  of  years,  no  doubt,  made  their 
history,  which  was  handed  down  in  tradition,  while  the 
site  of  the  State  House,  in  the  midst  of  the  prairie,  was 
in  those  days  used  for  the  propagation  of  another  kind 
of  incoherency  which  made  those  most  interested  sit  up 
and  take  notice — as  now.  But  between  these  two  modern 
cities  electric  cars  now  spin  across  a  splendidly  improved 
agricultural  country  every  hour,  passing  within  two  miles 
of  the  Old  Mission. 

Lee  and  his  associates  at  once  entered  upon  their  labors 
and  soon  had  a  handful  of  native  children  attending  their 
school,  but  in  the  long  run — though  it  was  a  compara- 
tively short  run,  after  all — the  effort  was  a  failure  so  far 
as  any  improvement  in  the  moral  or  spiritual  condition 
of  the  Indians  was  concerned.  Lee  himself  was  to  a 
certain  extent  discredited  through  the  disappointment 
felt  by  the  Missionary  Board  of  New  York  that  greater 
progress  had  not  been  made  in  uplifting  the  heathen. 
When  on  his  way  to  "the  States"  in  February,  1844, 
while  stopping  for  a  few  days  at  Honolulu,  he  learned 
that  Bishop  Hedding  had  appointed  Rev.  George  Gary, 
of  New  York,  his  successor.  Nevertheless  he  continued 
his  journey,  which  was  undertaken  largely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  explaining  to  the  Missionary  Board  the  many 
difficulties  under  which  his  work  had  proceeded. 

Lee  never  returned  to  Oregon,  the  field  of  his  greatest 
efforts,  though  it  was  his  intention  to  do  so.  Going  to 
his  birthplace  in  Stanstead,  Canada,  for  a  much-needed 


56  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

rest,  he  contracted  a  severe  cold  from  which  he  never 
recovered,  and  on  March  12,  1845,  he  passed  into  the 
Great  Beyond  with  the  hope  of  receiving  the  reward  of 
a  faithful  servant  of  God. 

The  hie  of  Jason  Lee  was  a  singularly  sorrowful  one. 
In  June,  1837,  the  Mission  was  blessed  with  the  arrival 
of  twelve  new  members  from  the  East,  seven  of  whom 
were  women.  To  one  of  these,  Aliss  Anna  Maria  Pit- 
man, Lee  was  married  within  four  weeks,  and  on  the 
same  day  and  with  the  same  ceremony  Miss  Susan  Down- 
ing, another  of  the  new  arrivals,  was  united  to  Cyrus 
Shepherd.  And  although  the  joyous  occasion  was  not  cele- 
brated amid  the  accompanying  strains  of  Mendelssohn's 
"Wedding  March,"  nor  in  a  gilded  parlor  adorned  with 
smilax  and  imported  ferns,  yet  in  the  grove  of  firs,  God's 
own  temple,  these  Christian  people  probably  pledged  their 
fidelity  to  each  other  with  as  full  a  measure  of  bliss  as 
ever  filled  the  hearts  of  the  "idle  rich"  in  the  centers  of 
civilization. 

In  March  of  the  next  year,  1838,  Lee  began  the  jour- 
ney overland  to  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  presenting 
the  needs  of  the  Mission  to  the  Board.  On  the  first  day 
of  the  following  September,  while  at  the  town  of  West- 
port,  Missouri,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  messenger  sent 
from  the  Mission  to  inform  him  of  the  death  of  his  wife 
and  infant  son  on  July  26.  Burdened  with  this  great 
affliction  he  went  his  way,  devoting  himself  during  the 
next  twelve  months  to  organizing  a  new  expedition  to 
the  Oregon  Country,  composed  of  those  who  were  closely 
identified  with  the  Methodist  Church.  These  people, 
fifty-one  in  number,  sailed  from  New  York  on  October 
9,  1839,  bidding  adieu  to  former  friends  and  associations 
and  casting  their  lot  with  the  much-talked-of  region  on  the 
Pacific  Coast. 

There  is  something  intensely  fascinating  about  this 
great  movement  to  all  Oregonians,  but  especially  to  those 
who.  like  myself,  can  remember  most  of  those  grand 
pioneers  who  so  industriously  and  patriotically  set  about 
creating  a  State  from  the  raw  materials  by  which  they 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  57 

were  so  lavishly  surrounded.  This  addition  to  the  Mis- 
sion, and  incidentally  to  the  forces  which  so  soon  after- 
ward began  to  shape  affairs  toward  American  ownership 
of  the  country,  was  called  the  "Great  Reenforcement" 
and  to  this  day  if  you  should  speak  of  the  "Great  Re- 
enforcement"  to  an  active  Methodist  his  eye  will  kindle 
with  enthusiasm  and.,  if  he  is  not  tongue-tied  (and  I  have 
never  yet  seen  a  Methodist  so  afflicted),  he  will  begin  a 
deserved  eulogy  upon  the  many  virtues  of  that  band  of 
men  and  women.  Numbered  among  them  were  Rev. 
J.  L.  Parrish  and  wife,  Rev.  Gustavus  Hines  and  wife, 
Rev.  A.  F.  Waller  and  wife,  George  Abernethy,  who 
became  the  first  Governor  of  Oregon  under  the  pro- 
visional government.  Dr.  I.  L.  Babcock,  L.  H.  Judson 
and  others  who  won  conspicuous  places  in  the  subsequent 
development  of  the  country. 

With  these  people  on  the  good  ship  "Lausanne,"  re- 
turning to  the  scene  of  his  labors,  was  Jason  Lee,  v/ho, 
just  before  starting  had  married  Miss  Lucy  Thomson, 
of  Barre.  Vermont.  The  ship  arrived  in  the  Columbia 
River  on  May  21,  1840,  and  within  a  few  days  those 
who  were  destined  to  locate  at  the  Mission  reached  that 
point  and  took  up  their  appointed  tasks.  At  the  Mission 
on  March  20,  1842,  Lee's  second  wife,  like  his  first,  died 
in  child-birth,  leaving  an  infant  daughter  who  grew  to 
womanhood. 

Jason  Lee's  first  w'lie  was  buried  on  a  beautiful  knoll 
overlooking  the  Chemekete  prairie — where  Salem  now 
stands — and  it  has  ever  since  been  known  as  Lee  Mission 
Cemetery.  It  is  just  outside  the  city  limits  of  Salem, 
and  while  its  lots  are  at  the  service  of  the  general  public 
it  is  distinguished  as  the  last  resting-place  of  many  of 
the  State's  most  prominent  Methodists  and  is  owned  by 
that  religious  organization.  When  I  was  a  boy  in  my 
early  teens,  attending  the  Willamette  University,  the  Lee 
Mission  Cemetery  was  "way  out  in  the  country."  Many 
a  time  I  have  gone  in  company  with  boys  of  my  age 
"prowling"  through  the  scattered  woods  that  intervened 
between  the  city  and  the  cemetery.     Sometimes  we  ven- 


58  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

tured  inside  the  fence  of  the  "graveyard"  where,  under 
the  spreading  branches  of  a  giant  oak  tree  which  had 
been  there — and  ahiiost  its  present  size — when  Columbus 
landed  on  the  eastern  shores  of  America,  we  stood  in 
awe,  mingled  with  a  quite  well-defined  sense  of  fear, 
and  read  this  inscription  upon  a  huge  slab  of  marble  in 
letters  even  then  dingy  with  age : 

Beneath  this  sod, 

The  first  ever  broken  in  Oregon 

for  the  reception  of 

White  mother  and   child, 

Lie  the  remains 

of 

ANNA  MARIA   PITMAN, 

wife  of 

REV.  JASON  LEE, 

and  infant  son. 

She  sailed  from  New  York,  July.  1836, 

Landed  in  Oregon,  June.  1837, 

Was  married  July  i^, 

and  died 

July  26th.  1838, 

Aged  36  years. 

By  the  side  of  Anna  Pitman  Lee  and  her  little  son  lie 
the  remains  of  Mrs.  Lucy  Thomson  Lee,  Jason  Lee's 
second  wife. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  history  of  Oregon  will  be  searched  in  vain  for  a 
more  pathetic  story  of  individual  experience  than  that 
which  clusters  around  the  career  of  Jason  Lee.  Imbued 
with  a  fervent  religious  zeal,  he  desired  to  consecrate 
his  life  to  the  service  of  Christianity,  and  his  special 
ambition,  even  before  the  proposition  to  come  to  Oregon 
was  presented  to  him,  was  to  work  among  the  Indians. 
Making  the  long  journey  across  the  continent  as  early  as 
1834,  he  found  conditions  here  even  more  difficult  and 
unpromising  than  he  had  supposed.  After  working 
under  these  dispiriting  circumstances  for  three  years  he 
returned  to  New  York  overland  in  1838,  the  sad  news 
of  his  wife's  death  overtaking  him  when  his  journey  was 
but  little  more  than  half  over.  He  returned  to  Oregon 
in  1840  and  two  years  later  lost  his  second  wife.  He 
■vyas  virtually  discharged  from  his  superintendency  in 
1844,  through  misrepresentation  and  the  fact  that  the 
undertaking,  because  of  impossible  conditions,  had  not 
met  with  a  great  measure  of  success.  The  same  year 
he  made  his  second  journey  to  the  Mother  Church  in 
New  York  in  the  interest  of  the  Mission,  was  seized  with 
a  severe  cold,  and  on  March  12,  1845,  at  his  home  in 
Canada,  yielded  up  his  life. 

I  have  never  read  of  a  sadder  career  than  this — ^have 
you?  And  yet  it  bore  fruit  of  the  rarest  character,  and 
the  results  of  Lee's  efforts  are  felt  in  all  Oregon  to  this 
day.  Not  only  those  who  came  here  in  the  earlier  days 
recognize  his  great  sacrifices  made  in  laying  a  great 
State's  foundation,  but  our  newer  citizens,  as  they  fami- 
liarize themselves  with  the  pioneer  history  of  their 
adopted  State,  will  read  with  growing  admiration  of  the 
man  who  gave  his  life  for  the  promotion  of  a  great 
cause. 

59 


6o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

For  sixty-one  years  the  body  of  Jason  Lee  lay  in  the 
cemetery  of  his  native  town  in  Canada.  Frequently  the 
proposal  to  bring  it  to  Oregon  and  place  it  by  the  side  of 
his  wives  in  Lee  Mission  Cemetery  was  made  by  appre- 
ciative citizens  of  Oregon,  and  the  General  Conferences 
of  the  Methodist  Church  often  seriously  considered  it, 
but  the  pressing  demands  for  money  in  matters  calling 
for  immediate  action  caused  delay  after  delay.  Finally, 
however,  in  the  summer  of  1905  the  movement  inaugu- 
rated by  the  Conference  and  a  few  outside  individuals 
was  successful.  On  a  beautiful  June  afternoon  in  1906, 
when  the  sun  was  approaching  the  western  horizon  and 
all  nature  was  in  an  exceptionally  happy  mood, — just 
such  a  day  as  is  known  in  all  its  perfection  no  place  on 
earth  outside  the  Willamette  valley, — the  body  of  Jason 
Lee  was  deposited  by  the  side  of  his  loved  and  faithful 
wives  and  infant  son.  after  a  separation  of  nearly  sixty- 
five  years! 

Standing  under  the  shade  of  the  majestic  oaks  which 
had  all  these  years  stood  as  sentinels  over  the  graves  of 
the  partners  of  his  successes  and  disappointments,  chiefly 
the  latter,  a  thousand  people  witnessed  the  solemn  cere- 
mony. Many  of  the  oldest  Methodists  in  the  Northwest 
were  there,  but,  singularly  enough,  no  one  who  had  ever 
seen  Jason  Lee.  At  the  graveside,  after  the  casket  had 
been  lowered.  President  Coleman,  of  the  Willamette 
University,  invited  several  prominent  men  who  w^ere 
present  to  make  short  addresses.  I  recall  that  among 
these  was  Rev.  John  Flinn.  then  eighty-eight  years  of 
age  and  one  of  the  oldest  ministers  in  point  of  service  as 
well  as  age  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  He  is  of  Irish  extrac- 
tion, of  an  unusually  sunny  disposition,  and  as  devout  a 
man  as  may  be  found  anywhere.  His  remarks  on  this 
occasion  were  very  impressive.  With  quivering  voice  he 
referred  to  the  reverence  he  felt  while  in  this  city  of  the 
dead,  which  held  the  remains  of  so  many  of  the  pioneer 
Methodists — Bishop  Haven,  William  Roberts,  Father 
Wilbur.  J.  L.  Parrish,  Gustavus  Hines,  Harvev  K.  Hines 
and  others  who  had  wrought  with  such  good  effect  in 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  6i 

the  old  days.  "But  our  ranks  are  thinning,"  said  he, 
"and  within  a  few  days  at  most.  Dr.  Driver,  you  and  I 
will  be  with  them,  singing  praises  to  the  Lamb.  Bless 
the  dear  Lord!"  And  as  he  said  it  he  made  his  way  to 
where  Dr.  Driver  stood  and  embraced  him  fervently, 
while  the  tears  streamed  down  the  cheeks  of  the  distin- 
guished Methodist  patriarchs  who  had  carried  the  banner 
of  the  Cross  in  Oregon  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

And  there  were  other  eyes,  many  hundreds  of  them, 
similarly  affected  by  this  exhibition  of  pardonable 
emotion  aroused  by  the  recollection  of  days  and  experi- 
ences long  gone  by. 

At  this  point  Father  Flinn  gave  way  to  a  reminiscent 
vein  and,  forgetting  for  the  moment  where  he  was  and 
the  seriousness  of  the  occasion,  said : 

"Brother  Driver,  do  you  remember  the  time  of  your 
conversion  down  in  Umpqua  valley?  I  was  there  and  I 
will  never  forget,"  etc.  He  then  related  a  humorous 
incident  connected  with  Brother  Driver's  conversion  and 
finished  with  a  chuckle,  the  entire  audience  joining  in  the 
laugh  which  the  anecdote  forced.  Driver  replied  with  a 
sally,  recounting  the  first  time  he  ever  saw  Flinn,  and 
the  predicament  he  was  in, — the  entire  incident  at  the 
graveside,  although  out  of  harmony  with  a  solemn  occa- 
sion, presenting  a  humorously  pathetic  feature  which 
was  enjoyed  and  appreciated  by  those  present,  but  which 
would  have  been  sheer  irreverence  if  indulged  by  younger 
men.  On  the  whole,  it  well  illustrated  how  indistinct, 
after  all,  is  the  dividing  line  between  life  and  death,  and 
was  a  demonstration  born  of  religious  enthusiasm  which 
would  have  pleased  Lee  himself  if  he  could  have  wit- 
nessed it — and  who  is  prepared  to  say  that  he  did  not? 

It  was  verv  fitting  that  this  burial  ceremony  should 
have  been  under  the  management  of  Dr.  John  Coleman, 
the  then  president  of  Willamette  University,  for  it  was 
Jason  Lee  who  made  the  preliminary  move  toward  the 
V  establishment  of  that  institution  when,  at  a  meeting  at 
his  house  in  Chemekete,  now  North  Salem,  on  January 
17,  1842,  a  committee  was  appointed  to  look  into  the 


62  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

feasibility  of  founding  an  institution  of  learning.  This 
committee  consisted  of  Dr.  J.  L.  Babcock,  David  Leslie 
and  Gustavus  Hines.  It  took  up  the  matter  promptly 
and  called  a  meeting  to  be  held  on  February  i,  two 
weeks  later,  at  the  Mission.  It  was  on  motion  of  Gus- 
tavus Hines  that  the  new  school  w'as  to  be  called  the 
"Oregon  Institute."  This  meeting  chose  the  first  Board 
of  Trustees  of  the  proposed  school,  consisting  of  Jason 
Lee,  David  Leslie,  Gustavus  Hines.  J.  L.  Parrish,  L.  H, 
Judson,  all  preachers,  and  Messrs.  George  Abernethy, 
Alanson  Beers,  Hamilton  Campbell  and  Dr.  J.  L.  Bab- 
cock— all  characterized  by  force  of  character  and  inten- 
sity of  purpose — such  men  as  it  is  seldom  possible  to 
find  in  any  community,  young  or  old. 

Jason  Lee,  the  president  of  the  Board  of  Trustees, 
was  empowered  "as  agent  to  labor  for  the  interests  of 
the  school  in  the  United  States,  whither  he  was  going 
soon  to  promote  further  the  civil  and  religious  welfare 
of  Oregon."  as  is  recorded  in  a  contemporaneous  account 
of  the  movement.  The  United  States  was  at  that  time 
regarded  as  a  foreign  country,  which,  indeed,  it  was. 
The  construction  of  the  institute  was  well  under  way 
when  Mr.  Lee  was  superseded  in  the  missionary  field  in 
OreTOU  by  Rev.  George  Gary,  who  upon  his  arrival  here, 
finding  the  conditions  of  the  Mission  Manual  School 
very  unsatisfactory,  soon  afterwards  sold  it  to  the 
trustees  of  the  institute  for  four  thousand  dollars.  The 
Indians  did  not  take  to  the  matter  with  any  degree  of 
interest.  Many  of  the  children  died,  others  had  been 
taken  by  their  parents  to  their  tepees  in  their  forest  homes 
and  the  great  effort  of  Jason  Lee  to  "convert"  the  red 
men  ended  in  failure,  so  far  as  immediate  results  were 
concerned.  But  he  had  laid  broad  and  deep  the  founda- 
tions for  a  great  university,  had  blazed  the  way  for  a 
substantial  civilization,  and  had  sacrificed  his  life  at  the 
age  of  forty-one  in  support  of  a  glorious  cause. 

The  Oregon  Institute  w^as  opened  in  September,  1844, 
with  Mrs.  Chloe  Willson  as  its  only  teacher.  She  was 
the  wife  of  Dr.  W.  H.  Willson,  the  clerk  of  the  Board 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  63 

of  Trustees,  and,  as  Miss  Clark,  was  one  of  the  young 
women  who  had  come  here  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
the  children  of  the  missionaries.  She  continued  in  this 
service  until  1850.  Soon  after  the  opening  of  the  school 
Rev.  F.  S.  Hoyt  was  elected  a  teacher  and  continued  at 
the  head  of  the  school  until  1854,  during  which  time  it 
had  so  prospered  that  several  instructors  were  employed. 
In  1853  the  Board  of  Trustees  applied  to  the  Legislature 
for  the  passage  of  an  "Act  to  establish  the  Willamette 
University,"  and  its  charter  was  enacted  during  that 
session. 

Thus  came  into  existence  an  institution  of  learning 
which  has  had  a  wider  influence  in  furthering  the  educa- 
tional interests  of  the  Northwest  than  all  others.  Many 
of  the  most  prominent  men  and  women  on  the  Pacific 
Coast,  in  all  walks  of  life,  have  been  students  within  its 
walls.  For  nearly  seventy  years  it  has  been  striving  to 
advance  the  material  as  well  as  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
all  this  region  roundabout,  and  while,  like  all  institu- 
tions of  similar  character,  it  has  had  its  seasons  of  adver- 
sity as  well  as  prosperity,  its  immediate  directors  and  sup- 
porters have  been  intensely  loyal,  and  to-day  it  is  enjoy- 
ing a  measure  of  success  not  before  known  in  its  long 
and  useful  career. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Nowhere  in  the  various  experiences  of  the  people  in 
"the  old  Bible  times,"  graphically  told,  to  be  sure,  is 
there  a  story  so  fraught  with  self-sacrifice  and  daring 
purpose  as  that  truthfully  narrated  by  the  early  Oregon 
pioneers.  In  those  old  days  of  Moses  and  Aaron,  Joshua 
and  Noah,  David  and  Solomon,  the  entire  world,  as  it 
was  known  to  them,  was  little  larger  than  the  territory 
which  one  now  covers  in  going  to  a  country  fair  in  the 
United  States.  When  they  left  behind  them  the  very 
best  they  had  they  did  not  deprive  themselves  of  a  great 
deal.  There  is  not  much  difference  between  the  highest 
and  the  lowest  estate  when  all  men  live  in  caves,  or  even 
when  a  man  will  labor  for  a  farmer  seven  years  for  his 
daughter  and,  finding  a  mistake  has  been  made,  will 
repeat  the  service  for  any  other  old  girl  in  the  same 
household  who  is  disengaged.  In  such  times  it  is  not 
possible  to  get  very  far  from  home  under  any  circum- 
stances. But  when  the  missionaries  in  Jason  Lee's  time 
left  New  York  for  Oregon — the  voyage  always  neces- 
sitating a  stop  at  the  Sandwich  Islands — it  meant  a  real, 
live  trip.  In  the  old  times  a  journey  from  Jerusalem  to 
Bethlehem  was  merely  a  little  hike  of  ten  miles,  and  to 
Beersheba  but  fifty.  The  Plains  of  Sharon  are  but  ten 
miles  across — about  half  as  far  as  from  Portland  to 
Hillsboro — and  from  Damascus  to  the  mountains  of 
Lebanon  is  but  fifty  miles.  I  remember  hearing  Hon. 
D.  P.  Thompson,  an  Oregon  pioneer  who  for  several 
years  was  the  United  States  Minister  to  Turkey,  say  that 
owing  to  the  little  distance  between  points  of  interest  in 
Palestine,  the  attractiveness  of  the  country  is  noticeably 
diminished.  He  said  he  found  the  River  Jordan  espec- 
ially disappointing — that  it  reminded  him  particularly  of 
the  Long  Tom,  in  Lane  County,  Oregon,  which  as  all 

64 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  65 

old  settlers  know  is  sluggish  in  the  extreme  and  utterly 
without  native  beauty. 

But  it  was  all  the  world  there  was  at  that  time  and 
the  old  pilgrims  went  as  far  as  they  knew  the  road — 
and  stopped,  of  course.  They  knew  of  no  other  place 
to  go.  The  situation  at  that  time  reminds  me  of  a 
remark  made  by  Colonel  Roosevelt  during  his  recent 
visit  to  Portland.  In  addressing  the  Grand  Army  men, 
after  warmly  complimenting  them  for  their  part  in  sub- 
duing the  Rebellion,  he  referred,  in  passing,  to  the 
services  of  his  comrades  and  himself  in  the  Spanish  War, 
saying:  "By  comparison  it  was  not  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  same  breath  with  the  affair  of  '61,  but  it  zvas  all  the 
war  there  zvas!" 

While  comparisons  may  be  "odious"  at  times,  they 
are  often  very  instructive,  as  well  as  interesting.  The 
trip  of  Anna  Maria  Pitman  made  to  Oregon  in  1836 
not  only  meant  leaving  home  and  friends  behind,  never 
to  be  seen  again,  but  a  voyage  of  some  ten  thousand 
miles  into  an  unconquered  wilderness.  Neither  can  the 
motive  which  prompted  her  to  make  the  sacrifice  be 
deemed  much  less  commendable  than  that  which  guided 
many  of  the  movements  recorded  in  early  Jewish  history. 
When  the  end  of  the  long  journey  was  in  sight,  and 
while  the  ship  was  anchored  at  Honolulu,  preparatory 
to  making  the  run  to  the  Columbia  River,  Miss  Pitman 
wrote  to  her  sister  in  New  York  the  following  letter, 
which  gives  a  thrilling  insight  into  the  motives  which 
controlled  those  early  missionaries,  as  well  as  the  forti- 
tude with  which  they  accepted  their  cheerless  surround- 


ings. 


Honolulu,  Island  of  Oahu,  Dec.  28,  1836. 
My  Dear  Sister: 

I  have  taken  up  my  pen  to  address  you, 
far  from  the  land  of  my  birth,  the  home  of  my 
childhood  and  of  my  riper  years,  not  with  painful 
but  with  pleasing  and  grateful  emotions.  Truly  pros- 
perous breezes  have  wafted  us  onward,  until  by  the 
goodness  of  my  heavenly  Father  I  am  once  more  on 
firm  footing.     Oh,  my  dear  sister,  you  cannot  enter 


66  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

into  my  feelings,  neither  can  I  describe  them.  When 
I  first  stepped  on  the  ship  at  Boston,  the  first  thought 
that  entered  my  mind  was:  "Perhaps  I  shall  never  be 
permitted  to  place  my  feet  on  land  again."  However,  I 
soon  succeeded  in  banishing  the  thought  by  giving 
myself  to  the  Lord,  in  whose  hands  1  felt  perfectly 
safe.  If  He  saw  fit  to  give  me  a  grave  in  the  ocean, 
I  could  say,  "The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done."  I  have 
been  somewhat  afflicted  during  the  voyage,  but  I  have 
found  it  good  to  be  chastised.  I  have  been  happy  and 
enabled  most  of  the  time  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord. 

The  passage  has  been  good.  We  have  had  much 
pleasant  weather;  saw  land  but  once,  and  that  at  a 
distance.  When  we  came  in  sight  of  these  islands  I 
was  much  animated.  The  first  island  was  Owyhee, 
some  miles  from  this.  We  did  not  get  near  enough  to 
distinguish  anything  like  land — it  seemed  like  one  pile 
of  mountains  whose  tops  were  covered  with  eternal 
snow — but  with  the  help  of  the  spy-glass  we  could  see 
the  waves  dash  upon  the  shore.  On  that  island  there 
is  a  burning  volcano,  but  the  island  is  very  fruitful. 
The  natives  on  all  these  islands  use  the  same  tongue. 
We  came  in  port  Friday  evening,  seven  o'clock,  Decem- 
ber 2^.  Some  of  our  men  went  ashore  that  night,  re- 
turning the  next  morning,  bringing  eggs,  milk,  cucum- 
bers, bananas  and  watermelons.  After  we  had  break- 
fast some  of  our  Presbyterian  brethren  came  aboard 
and  greeted  us  with  a  hearty  welcome.  We  soon  left 
our  floating  home  and  were  glad  once  more  to  walk  on 
land.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  for  His  pre- 
serving care.  We  were  received  in  the  families  of  this 
mission  with  pleasure.  I  cannot  speak  too  highly  in 
their  praise ;  really  they  are  examples  worthy  of  imita- 
tion. I  feel  as  though  I  were  among  my  own  people. 
Oh,  when  will  names  be  forgotten,  party  spirit  be  re- 
moved and  all  Christians  dwell  together  in  unity  of 
spirit  and  bonds  of  peace!  Heaven  hasten  the  day 
when  we  shall  be  bound  together  as  with  a  three-fold 
cord  that  cannot   be  easily  broken. 

This  extract  from  Miss  Pitman's  letter,  written  while 
en  route  to  her  mission  of  teaching  the  savage  the  sav- 
ing grace  of  humility,  penitence,  brotherly  kindness  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  67 

the  "oneness  of  the  human  race  in  God,''  reveals  the 
true  spirit  of  the  zealous  missionary  who  is  dominated 
more  by  a  disposition  to  do  good  than  by  a  perception  of 
actually  impossible  conditions,  such  as  this  poor  woman 
and  the  man  who  was  so  soon  to  become  her  husband 
afterward  discovered.  But  it  is  very  interesting  as  a 
part  of  the  complete  history  of  Oregon,  tending  to  illus- 
trate the  only  kind  of  temperament  which  could  with- 
stand the  discouraging  environment  of  those  days. 

In  the  same  letter  Miss  Pitman  abandoned  her  senti- 
mental and  religious  retiections  and  dealt  in  actual  facts. 
These  are  of  decided  historical  interest  as  portraying 
conditions  then  existing  and  the  early  life  of  some  men 
and  women  who  afterward  figured  prominently  in  public 
affairs  in  the  new  country.    Along  this  line  she  said : 

The  day  before  we  arrived  letters  were  received 
from  Daniel  Lee.  He  states  that  they  had  received 
intelligence  (through  missionaries  who  had  crossed  the 
Rocky  Mountains)  that  a  re-enforcement  was  on  the 
way  to  join  them.  He  writes  in  fine  spirits,  being  quite 
recovered  from  disease.  They  have  had  good  crops 
from  their  farm  this  year,  have  four  hundred  bushels 
of  wheat,  eight  hundred  of  potatoes,  all  kinds  of  vege- 
tables and  fish,  pork,  fowls,  etc.  They  have  all  had 
the  fever  and  ague.  J.  Lee  has  just  recovered  from  an 
attack  which  left  him  in  a  weak  state.  They  are  each, 
in  turn,  farmer,  blacksmith,  cook,  teacher,  preacher 
and  housekeeper.  In  their  family  they  have  eighteen 
children,  whom  they  teach  and  provide  for.  We  are 
anxious  to  proceed  immediately,  but  we  expect  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  wait  until  March  before  we  can 
obtain  passage.  Dr.  White  and  Brother  Beer's  family 
live  together;  they  have  taken  a  house  and  we  single 
ones  are  in  different  families  of  the  Mission.  Such  a 
congregation  of  natives  as  T  beheld  on  Sabbath  I  never 
expected  to  see.  Truly  the  Lord  has  prospered  this  Mis- 
sion. I  cannot  express  my  feelings  on  witnessing  such 
a  scene !  One  thousand  or  more  decently  dressed, 
assembled  together  in  the  Mission  chapel,  made  in 
native  style,  seated  in  order  to  hear  the  Word  of  Life 
in  their  own   tongue,  was  a  sight  that  affected  my 


68  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

heart,  not  with  grief  but  with  joy.    After  the  services 
several  of  the  natives  shook  our  hands  heartily. 

I  attended  the  Sabbath-school — it  was  interesting — 
they  sing  sweetly.  It  is  quite  rare  for  them  to  sec 
strangers ;  we  excited  considerable  notice  from  them. 
I  realize  a  good  deal  of  what  I  have  frequently  read, 
but  I  know  nothing  of  the  trials  and  difficulties  of  a 
missionary  life  until  I  engage  in  our  own  field  of  labor. 
But  the  Lord  will  be  our  helper. 

How  little  did  this  brave  woman  dream  of  the  tragic 
experiences  which  awaited  her  in  "our  ow^n  field  of  labor." 
The  date  of  this  letter  was  December  28,  1836.  She 
arrived  at  her  destination  the  following  June,  was 
married  to  "J.  Lee"  of  whom  she  speaks,  within  less  than 
thirty  days,  and  twelve  months  later  yielded  up  her 
life  at  the  birth  of  a  son,  who  himself  lived  but  a  brief 
hour.  Certainly  no  woman  who  has  been  mentioned 
in  Oregon  history  has  had  a  career  at  once  so  romantic 
and  pathetic.  Her  experience  will  never  be  duplicated, 
for  the  reason  that  no  other  woman  w'ill  ever  make  the 
journey  to  Oregon  and  live,  even  for  the  brief  space 
of  one  year,  amid  such  an  environment  as  surrounded 
Anna  Maria  Pitman. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  find  any  record  which  would 
indicate  that  Jason  Lee  and  his  bride  had  ever  met  until 
that  far-off  day  in  beautiful  June,  1837,  when  she  ar- 
rived at  the  Mission,  ten  miles  below  Salem,  thoroughly 
imbued  with  that  self-sacrificing  spirit  which  character- 
ized the  missionaries  of  that  day.  That  under  these  cir- 
cumstances there  should  have  been  a  wedding,  and  a 
double  wedding  at  that — for  Cyrus  Shepherd  married 
Susan  Downing  at  the  same  time,  by  the  same  ceremony, 
evidently  before  there  was  any  assurance  that  a  single 
Indian  had  been  converted — again  shows  how  irre- 
sistible is  the  dart  which  Dan  Cupid  hurls  with  so  little 
regard  for  race,  color  or  previous  condition  of  servitude 
— or  the  absence  of  it.  Jason  Lee  twice  gave  tangible 
proof  that  he  thoroughly  accepted  the  doctrine  that  it 
is  not  good  for  man  to  live  alone. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  69 

The  closing  paragraph  of  this  historic  letter  of  Miss 
Pitman's  will  be  found  of  interest,  as  reflecting  the  im- 
pressions which  the  half-savage  surroundings  made  upon 
her: 

I  witnessed  one  death  on  our  voyage — our  cook,  a 
colored  man,  died  of  consumption.  Though  he  was 
anxious  about  his  soul,  we  had  but  a  faint  hope  in 
his  death ;  he  died  delirious.  His  funeral  was  attended 
with  solemn  respect.  His  body  was  sewed  up  in  a 
hammock,  with  bullets  tied  to  his  feet.  The  Ameri- 
can flag  was  thrown  over  him  as  a  pall  as  he  lay  on  the 
deck.  The  ship's  company  was  assembled  while  Dr. 
White  read  the  burial  service.  He  was  then  launched 
into  the  ocean.  A  few  days  after  we  had  reason  to 
hope  for  the  steward's  conversion ;  the  change  in  him 
was  great.  I  trust  our  prayers  for  the  crew  have  not 
been  in  vain. 

We  have  had  our  class-meetings  (on  the  ship), 
prayer-meetings,  and  as  often  as  we  could,  on  Sab- 
bath on  deck,  have  had  worship  with  the  seamen.  But 
some  of  the  sailors  are  a  wicked  set  of  men.  Still, 
my  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord,  and  though  He 
slay  me  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him.  Surely,  goodness  and 
mercy  have  followed  me  all  my  life.  I  often  look  back 
on  the  past  with  pleasure.  I  often  meet  with  you  in 
spirit  around  your  family  altar  and  in  my  class.  I  have 
enjoyed  seasons  there  long  to  be  remembered.  I  am 
striving  to  press  my  way  onward.  Oh,  pray  for  me 
that  I  may  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  the 
cross  of  Christ.  I  feel  as  though  you  had  not  ceased 
to  pray  for  me.    Oh,  continue  so  to  do. 

I  remain  yours  in  the  best  of  bonds, 

A.  M.  Pitman. 

Mrs.  H.  Martin. 

All  these  manifestations  of  the  goodness  and  sin- 
cerity of  this  pioneer  white  woman  of  the  Oregon 
Country,  so  directly  connected  with  the  early  missionary 
work — which,  however,  accomplished  more  for  the  ulti- 
mate settlement  of  the  Northwest  by  patriotic  Americans 
than  it  did  for  the  ''conversion"  of  the  Indians — find  an 
appropriate  place  here;  furthermore,  it  should  not  only 


70  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

be  a  part  of  the  every-day  knowledge  of  our  grown 
people,  but  should  be  included  in  the  curriculum  of  our 
schools.  The  man  or  woman  who  would  be  assured 
of  the  solidity  of  a  structure,  either  material  or  govern- 
mental, should  take  a  deep  interest  in  the  manner  in 
which  the  workmen  proceeded  with  the  construction  of 
its  foundation.  And  Jason  Lee.  with  his  wife  and  other 
associates,  wrought  mightily  in  the  laying  of  the  corner- 
stone of  our  present  State  government  and  advanced 
industrial  development. 


CHAPTER  X 

On  the  fifth  of  September,  1863,  I  entered  the  primary 
department  of  the  Willamette  University,  then  known 
as  the  "Institute."  It  was  the  name  of  the  institution 
established  and  erected  by  Jason  Lee  and  his  associates 
and  was,  indeed,  the  same  building.  It  was  rechristened 
by  the  Legislature  the  "Willamette  University,"  but  in 
1863  nearly  all  the  pioneer  missionaries  were  yet  living 
and  many  of  them  were  to  be  seen  on  the  streets  of 
Salem  every  day.  I  easily  recall  the  faces  of  "Father" 
Waller,  David  Leslie,  Gustavus  Hines  and  his  brother 
Harvey,  William  Roberts,  J.  L.  Parrish  and  others  as 
prominent  men  in  those  days.  The  University  was  called 
the  "Institute"  until  it  was  removed  to  the  new  brick 
structure,  a  hundred  yards  distant,  on  October  21,  1867, 
the  corner-stone  of  which  had  been  laid  with  fitting 
ceremonies  on  July  24.  1864.  I  remember  with  what 
pride  the  students,  some  two  hundred  in  number, 
marched  on  that  occasion  across  the  campus  to  view  the 
rare  collection  of  souvenirs  deposited  in  the  corner-stone, 
and  to  listen  to  the  addresses  of  the  men  who  had  been 
instrumental  in  securing  the  money  which  enabled  the 
trustees  to  begin  the  structure.  It  was  more  than  three 
years  before  it  was  actually  occupied,  so  difficult  did  it 
prove  for  even  Father  Waller  and  his  persistent  asso- 
ciates to  raise  sufficient  funds  to  proceed  with  the  work. 

The  Institute  had  been  changed  to  the  Willamette 
University  by  the  territorial  Legislature  on  January  12, 
1853,  the  preamble  of  which  act  read  as  follows: 

Whereas,  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  every  com- 
munity, under  the  direction  and  government  of  Divine 
Providence,  depend  in  an  eminent  degree  on  the  right 
education  of  the  youth  who  must  succeed  the  aged  in 

71 


^2  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  important  offices  of  society,  and  the  principles  of 
virtue  and  the  elements  of  liberal  knowledge  fostered 
and  imparted  in  the  higher  institutions  of  learning  tend 
to  develop  a  people  in  those  qualifications  most  essen- 
tial to  their  welfare  and  future  advancement ;  and, 

Whereas,  it  appears  that  the  establishment  of  a  uni- 
versity in  the  town  of  Salem,  Marion  County,  with  a 
suitable  preparatory  department  for  the  instruction  of 
youth  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  is  likely  to  subserve  the 
intellectual  development  and  enlightening  of  the  youth 
of  this  Territory, 

Therefore,  Be  it  enacted,  etc. 

Section  i  of  the  charter  of  this,  the  oldest  uni- 
versity in  the  United  States  v^^est  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, has  been  deemed  of  sufficient  interest  to  warrant 
reproduction  here  because  of  the  unusual  array  of  prom- 
inent men  who  constituted  its  first  Board  of  Trustees: 

Section  i.  That  there  shall  be  established  in  the 
town  of  Salem,  in  the  County  of  Marion,  a  university 
to  be  called  the  Willamette  University,  and  that  David 
Leslie,  William  Roberts,  George  Abernethy,  W.  H. 
Willson,  Alanson  Beers,  Thomas  H.  Pearne,  Francis 
S.  Hoyt,  James  H.  Wilbur,  Calvin  S.  Kingsley,  John 
Flinn,  E.  M.  Barnum,  L.  F.  Grover,  B.  F.  Harding, 
Samuel  Burch,  Francis  Fletcher,  Jeremiah  Ralston,  J. 
D.  Boon,  Joseph  Holman,  James  R.  Robb,  Cyrus  Olney, 
Asahel  Bush  and  Samuel  Parker,  and  their  associates 
and  successors,  are  hereby  declared  to  be  a  body  cor- 
porate and  politic  in  law  by  the  name  and  style  of 
"The  Trustees  of  the  Willamette  University." 

To  the  pioneer  Oregonians.  what  a  wealth  of  mem- 
ories in  law,  religion,  business,  campaigning,  backbiting, 
scheming,  vituperation,  successes,  failure,  statesmanship 
and  genuine  Christianity  does  this  list  of  names  recall! 
At  that  tiine  Oregon  had  been  a  territory  but  four  years 
and  it  had  belonged  to  the  United  States  but  seven  years. 
Prior  to  that  (1846)  it  had  been  No  Man's  Land — a 
veritable  wanderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  if  the 
somewhat  strained  figure  of  speech  may  be  pardoned. 


1  ,',',:.>  . 


>         ) 


",     '     >'        ,'> 


0! 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  73 

But  these  men  were  here  at  this  early  date — many  of 
them  for  several  years  previous — and  showing  a  re- 
markable activity  in  developing  the  country  along  all 
lines  which  tended  toward  better  conditions  materially, 
socially,  spiritually  and  intellectually. 

David  Leslie,  the  president  of  the  Board,  who  had 
joined  the  old  Mission  in  September,  1837,  accompanied 
by  his  wife  and  several  children,  was  a  member  of  a 
prominent  New  England  family.  One  of  the  first  men 
to  settle  in  Salem,  he  "took  up"  a  quarter  section  of  land 
which  now  constitutes  a  part  of  the  southern  section  of 
Oregon's  capital  city. 

Mr.  Leslie  deserves  a  more  extended  mention  and  a 
larger  degree  of  appreciation  than  is  usually  given  him 
in  the  accounts  of  the  early  history  of  Oregon.  As 
early  as  1839,  Senator  Lewis  F.  Linn,  of  Missouri,  pre- 
sented a  petition  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
dated  March  16,  1838,  setting  forth  the  earnest  desire 
of  the  American  settlers  that  Congress  should  take  im- 
mediate and  decisive  steps  toward  the  ultimate  acquisition 
of  the  Oregon  Country.  I  will  quote  a  few  paragraphs 
which  will  serve  to  ilkistrate  the  forceful  character  of 
the  few  men  who.  even  at  this  early  date,  had  made  their 
way  to  the  Pacific  Coast  and  were  clamoring  for  national 
recognition  and  protection.  This  great  plea  for  help 
from  the  nation's  representatives  began  with  the  fol- 
lowing clear-cut  statement  of  conditions  and  possibili- 
ties: 

We  are  anxious  when  we  imagine  what  will  be, 
what  must  be,  the  condition  of  so  mixed  a  community, 
free  from  all  legal  restraint  and  superior  to  that  moral 
influence  which  has  hitherto  been  the  pledge  of  our 
safety.  We  flatter  ourselves  that  we  are  the  germ  of  a 
great  State  and  are  anxious  to  give  an  early  tone  to 
the  moral  and  intellectual  character  of  our  citizens, 
for  the  destinies  of  our  posterity  will  be  immediately 
affected  by  the  character  of  those  who  immigrate. 
The  Territory  must  populate — the  Congress  of  the 
United  States  must  say  by  whom.  The  natural  re- 
sources of  the  country,  with  a  well-judged  civil  code, 


74  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

will  invite  a  good  community,  but  a  good  community 
will  hardly  emigrate  to  a  country  which  promises  no 
protection  to  life  and  property.  .  .  .  Well  are 
we  assured  that  it  will  cost  tiie  Ciovernment  of  the 
United  States  more  to  reduce  elements  so  discordant 
to  social  order  than  to  promote  our  permanent  peace 
and  prosperity  by  a  timely  action  of  Congress. 

This  patriotic  and  dis^nified  appeal  for  assistance  in 
the  great  work  which  confronted  the  early  settlers  in 
the  Northwest  is  worthy  a  place  alongside  the  best 
clauses  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  It  was  a 
strong  cry  from  the  wilderness,  from  those  who  had 
wandered  afar  in  the  interest  of  the  mother  government, 
to  be  taken  under  the  shadow  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

This  petition  was  followed  by  another  in  1840,  of 
which  David  Leslie  was  the  author.  It  was  no  less 
patriotic  and  earnest,  and  eloquently  expressed  the 
l)urpose  of  the  American  settlers  here  to  remain  Amer- 
icans, and  to  hold  the  fort  until  the  Government  should 
recognize  the  value  of  the  great  region  which  could  be 
acquired  if  prompt  and  energetic  steps  were  but  taken. 
A  part  of  this  appeal  reads  as  follows : 

They  have  settled  themselves  in  said  territory 
under  the  belief  that  it  was  a  portion  of  the  public 
domain  of  said  States,  and  that  they  might  rely  upon 
the  Government  thereof  for  the  blessings  of  free 
institutions  and  the  protection  of  its  arms.  But  they 
are  uninformed  of  any  acts  of  said  Government  by 
which  its  institutions  and  protection  are  extended  to 
them ;  in  consequence  whereof,  themselves  and  the 
families  are  exposed  to  be  destroyed  by  the  savages 
around  them,  and  others  who  would  do  them  harm. 

That  they  have  no  means  of  protecting  their  own 
and  the  lives  of  their  families  other  than  self-con- 
stituted tribunals  originated  and  sustained  by  the  power 
of  an  ill-instructed  public  opinion,  and  the  resort  to 
force  and  to  arms. 

That  these  means  of  safety  are  an  insufficient  safe- 
guard of  life  and  property — that  they  are  unable  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  75 

arrest  the  progress  of  crime  without  the  aid  of  law 
and  the  necessary  tribunals  to  enforce  it. 

Thus  was  Father  Leslie  taking  a  prominent  and  effec- 
tive part  in  "saving"   Oregon  two  decades  before  the    ' 
breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War  and  many  years  before 
most  of  the  men  now  prominent  in  national  aft'airs  were 
born. 

David  Leslie  was  born  in  New  Hampshire  in  1797, 
was  reared  in  the  shadow  of  the  White  Mountains, 
and  remained  there,  preaching  from  the  time  he  was 
twenty-five  years  of  age  until  his  coming  to  Oregon  in 
his  fortieth  year.  He  was  in  charge  of  the  Oregon 
Mission  from  1838  to  1840  during  the  absence  of  Jason 
Lee  while  the  latter  was  engaged  in  securing  the  "Great 
Reenforcement,"  which  arrived  in  the  latter  year. 

A  great  affliction  overtook  Mr.  Leslie  in  1842  in  the 
death  of  his  wife.  Being  left  with  a  family  of  five 
daughters,  he  soon  afterward  decided  to  take  two  of 
them  to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  that  they  might  have  the 
advantages  of  an  education,  leaving  the  youngest  two 
with  a  married  daughter,  Mrs.  Cornelius  Rodgers.  Mr. 
Rodgers  and  his  wife  were  moving  just  then  to  the  Falls, 
as  Oregon  City  was  called  in  those  days,  which  they 
intended  to  make  their  future  home.  The  journey  was 
made  in  a  large  "Chinook"  canoe,  manned  by  four 
Indians.  In  the  boat  were  Dr.  White,  Nathaniel 
Crocker,  W.  W.  Raymond,  of  the  Mission,  Mr.  Rodgers 
and  his  wife,  with  the  youngest  Leslie  girl,  the  other, 
who  was  in  delicate  health,  remaining  with  some  friends 
in  Salem. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  Falls  it  was  necessary  to 
make  a  portage.  They  fastened  a  line  to  the  canoe,  as 
was  customary,  and  Mr.  Raymond,  with  two  Indians, 
walked  along  the  rocks,  endeavoring  to  guide  it  to  a 
safe  landing.  Dr.  White  had  also  stepped  ashore.  At 
this  juncture  a  swift  current  struck  the  boat  and  capsized 
it.  with  the  result  that  it  was  immediately  swept  into 
the  raging  waters.      The  men   lost   the  line,   and   in   a 


76  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

moment  Air.  Rodgers,  his  wife  and  her  Httle  sister  were 
dashed  over  the  P'alls.  A  contemporary  account  of  this 
most  appalHng  affair  says:  "Mrs.  Rodgers,  on  seeing 
her  inevitable  fate,  clasped  her  baby  sister  to  her  breast 
and  the  remorseless  waters  passed  over  them,  hiding 
them  forever  from  mortal  sight."  Mr.  Crocker  also 
lost  his  life  in  this  disaster  which  threw  a  mantle  of 
gloom  over  the  little  settlement  of  whites. 

During  the  three  years  I  attended  the  Willamette 
University  David  Leslie  was  the  president  of  the  Board 
of  Trustees.  I  remember  he  appeared  to  me  as  an 
extremely  old  man.  I  do  not  know  what  his  physical 
affliction  was,  but  it  must  have  been  some  phase  of 
paralysis,  as  his  steps  were  scarcely  six  inches  in  length 
and  he  seemed  to  be  so  very  feeble  that  it  used  to  make 
me  long  to  render  him  some  assistance.  He  always  had 
a  kind  word  for  everybody  and  was  beloved  by  all.  He 
remained  at  the  head  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  for 
twenty-five  years,  or  until  a  year  before  his  death,  which 
occurred  at  his  home  in  Salem  on  March  i,  1869,  when 
a  truly  good  man  passed  on,  "full  of  years  and  full  of 
honors." 


CHAPTER  XI 

So  potent  and  far-reaching  has  been  the  influence  of 
the  Willamette  University  in  the  promotion  of  educa- 
tion in  the  Northwest — its  foundation  being  almost 
coincident  with  the  first  coming  of  the  white  man — 
that  a  brief  sketch  of  the  careers  of  those  who  constituted 
its  first  Board  of  Trustees  will  be  of  interest  and  value. 

William  Roberts  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  and 
useful  members  of  that  body.  He  came  to  Oregon  in 
1847  ^s  superintendent  of  the  missionary  work  of  the 
Methodist  Church,  and  at  once  became  known  as  an 
energetic  worker.  Not  only  was  he  active  within  the 
sphere  which  directly  demanded  his  attention,  but  every 
proposition  which  seemed  to  promise  a  development  of 
the  new  settlement  in  an  educational  and  material  way 
found  in  him  an  enthusiastic  and  efficient  supporter.  I 
remember  him  well,  as  Salem  was  his  home  most  of  the 
time,  though  his  territory  included  what  is  now  Cali- 
fornia, Idaho,  Washington  and  Oregon.  This  he 
covered  as  often  as  possible,  of  necessity  making  the 
larger  part  of  it  on  horseback,  after  the  manner  of  the 
early  itinerant  preachers,  for  the  most  part  "without 
money  and  without  price,"  looking  for  his  reward  in 
the  satisfaction  of  doing  his  work  well  and  in  the 
approval  of  his  fellow  men.  Mr.  Roberts  was  a  cultured 
man,  a  very  able  expounder  of  his  religious  faith,  and 
was  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  effective  ministers  of 
his  denomination  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  He  continued 
to  be  a  trustee  of  the  Willamette  University  until  his 
death,  which  occurred  in  1888.  His  service  covered 
a  period  of  forty-one  years  and  he  lived  to  see  the 
membership  of  his  Church  in  the  district  over  which  his 
jurisdiction  extended  increase  from  one  hundred  to  more 
than  twenty  thousand.    Like  several  others  of  the  early 

77 


TS  fifty  years  in  OREGON 

missionaries,  he  acquired  a  tract  of  land  where  Salem  now 
stands  and  one  of  the  most  valuable  additions  to  that 
city  bears  his  name  to-day. 

George  Abernethy  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  born  in 
1807,  but  his  parents  came  to  the  United  States  when 
he  was  two  years  of  age  and  settled  in  New  York  State. 
In  1840  Mr.  Abernethy  joined  the  missionaries  who 
accompanied  Jason  Lee  on  his  return  trip  to  Oregon  on 
the  Lausanne,  being  a  lay  member  of  the  missionary 
force.  In  1845  the  settlers  in  the  Willamette  valley  had 
organized  a  provisional  government,  and  under  its  au- 
thority an  election  was  held  on  June  3  for  a  full  list 
of  oflRcers.  George  Abernethy  was  a  candidate  for  the 
position  of  Governor,  receiving  a  majority  of  ninety- 
eight  votes  out  of  a  total  cast  of  five  hundred  and  four. 
His  opponent  was  A.  L.  Lovejoy,  a  Missourian  who  had 
crossed  the  plains  in  1842  with  Dr.  Elijah  White,  and 
who,  by  the  w^ay,  was  one  of  the  men  who  afterward 
platted  the  city  of  Portland. 

In  1847  Mr.  Abernethy  was  a  candidate  for  re-elec- 
tion and  received  five  hundred  and  thirty-six  votes  out 
of  a  total  of  eight  hundred  and  forty-seven.  Mr.  Love- 
joy  was  again  his  leading  opponent  and  Abernethy's 
plurality  over  him  was  but  sixteen  votes.  At  the  end 
of  his  second  term,  the  territorial  government  of  Oregon 
had  been  established  by  Congress  and  Joseph  Lane 
arrived  from  Indiana  as  the  appointee  of  President  Polk 
to  act  as  the  first  territorial  Governor.  Governor 
Abernethy  was  a  man  of  good  business  qualifications  but 
did  not  rank  high  as  a  politician,  which  may  or  may 
not  have  been  a  misfortune.  At  the  end  of  his  service 
at  the  head  of  the  provisional  government  he  engaged 
in  the  mercantile  business  at  Oregon  Git}-  and  gained 
a  considerable  amount  of  property,  which  was  mostly 
lost  in  the  great  flood  in  the  Willamette  River  in 
Deceml)er,  1861.  The  last  years  of  his  life  were  spent 
in  Portland,  where  he  died  in  1877. 

Alanson  Beers  was  also  a  member  of  the  Lausanne 
party  in  1840  and  soon  after  his  arrival  settled  upon  a 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  79 

claim  which  included  the  site  of  the  original  Mission. 
A  part  of  this  is  to-day  owned  by  his  son,  Oliver  Beers, 
a  resident  of  Salem.  Alanson  Beers  was  chosen  at  the 
famous  meeting  at  Champoeg  on  May  2,  1843,  ^s  one 
of  the  three  members  of  the  executive  committee,  whose 
duties  were  to  be  the  same  as  those  of  the  Governor 
of  any  other  Territory.  This  was  the  first  civil  govern- 
ment organized  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Mr. 
Beers  served  on  this  committee  until  July,  1844,  and  was 
really  one-third  of  the  first  Governor  of  the  Oregon 
Country. 

James  H.  Wilbur  deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice 
in  any  history  of  Oregon  which  aspires  to  do  justice  to 
the  men  who  may  be  correctly  termed  its  founders. 
Born  in  New  York  State  in  181 1,  he  came  here  in  1846 
by  way  of  Cape  Horn,  arriving  at  Portland  on  June  3, 
where  he  found  a  village  of  three  houses.  He  went  at 
once  to  Salem  and  began  traveling  over  the  circuit,  which 
reached  to  the  California  line.  In  1848  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Portland  and  Oregon  City  circuit  and  built 
the  first  church  ever  erected  in  the  former  city.  He 
raised  the  money  by  the  subscription  process  and  paid 
the  mechanics  twelve  dollars  a  day.  Lumber  cost  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  thousand.  In  1851  he 
built  the  Portland  Academy  and  Female  Seminary.  He 
performed  much  of  the  mechanical  labor  himself,  carry- 
ing mortar  in  hods  and  dressing  like  the  commonest  of 
the  workmen. 

Twenty  years  of  Mr.  Wilbur's  later  life  were  spent 
in  conducting  an  Indian  training  school  at  Yakima, 
Washington,  a  very  practical  and  successful  method  of 
"converting"  Indians,  the  good  results  of  which  are 
yet  felt  in  that  section.  He  died  in  1887  in  Walla  Walla, 
where  his  home  had  been  after  his  retirement  from  his 
long  and  arduous  services  for  the  public  weal. 

John  D.  Boon,  a  Wesleyan  Methodist  preacher  who 
came  to  Oregon  in  1845.  was  elected  treasurer  of  Oregon 
Territory  by  the  Legislature  in  January.  1855.  and 
served  continuously  for  the  ensuing  ten  years,  with  the 


8o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

exception  of  the  year  1856,  when  Nat.  H.  Lane  was 
chosen  to  that  position  for  one  year,  that  being  the 
length  of  the  term  in  those  times.  Upon  the  organi- 
zation of  the  State  government  in  1859  he  was  elected 
the  first  State  Treasurer,  serving  three  years.  He  con- 
ducted a  large  store — for  that  period — in  North  Salem 
in  the  first  brick  building  ever  constructed  in  that  part 
of  the  city.  He  raised  a  large  family  of  sons  and 
daughters,  with  whom  I  attended  the  University  in  the 
'6o's,  and  died  at  his  home,  well  advanced  in  years  and 
having  the  respect  of  all  the  people. 

Asahel  Bush,  a  printer  by  trade,  came  to  Oregon  from 
Massachusetts  in  1850  and  soon  after  his  arrival  estab- 
lished the  Statesman  at  Oregon  City,  afterwards  moving 
it  to  Salem  when  the  capital  was  changed  to  that  loca- 
tion. In  Washington  City  he  had  previously  consulted 
vSamuel  R.  Thurston,  the  first  delegate  to  Congress  from 
Oregon  Territory,  as  to  the  prospects  for  a  young  news- 
paper man  in  the  Far  West.  Thurston  gave  him  great 
encouragement,  since  he  was  very  ambitious  politically 
and  had  already  made  a  good  start,  and  since,  what  was 
more  important,  there  was  no  Democratic  paper  in  the 
territory.  As  the  result  of  this  conference  Mr.  Bush  at 
once  made  all  necessary  arrangements  to  ship  the 
materials  for  a  printing  plant  to  Oregon  and  himself 
embarked  for  his  new  home  in  July,  1850.  He  arrived 
at  Astoria  in  September,  having  made  most  of  the 
distance  across  the  Isthmus  on  muleback.  He  proceeded 
from  Astoria  to  Portland  by  a  small  boat,  and  at  once 
located  in  Oregon  City.  W'hen  the  Legislature  met  at 
Oregon  City  in  December.  Mr.  Bush  was  chosen  terri- 
torial printer,  the  assurance  that  his  plant  was  on  the 
way  being  sufficient  to  secure  his  election.  His  paper 
was  first  issued  in  March,  1851,  and  was  a  "hummer" 
from  the  beginning.  He  was  a  very  caustic  writer, 
using  ridicule  as  his  chief  weapon  and  sparing  no  politi- 
cal enemy.  He  was  courageous  under  all  circumstances, 
and  as  his  paper  reached  every  part  of  the  Territory, 
his  influence  was  far-reaching.     He  was  elected  official 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  8i 

printer  at  each  successive  session  of  the  Legislature, 
which  met  annually,  until  the  organization  of  the  State 
government  in  1859,  and  then  was  chosen  to  succeed 
himself  in  the  new  order  of  things.  In  1862  Harvey 
Gordon  was  chosen  to  succeed  Mr.  Bush,  but  died  before 
being  sworn  into  office.  As  the  Governor  neglected  to 
appoint  a  successor,  Mr.  Bush  served  until  the  election 
of  H.  L.  Pittock,  of  the  Oregonian,  in  1864. 

Mr.  Bush  sold  the  Statesman  in  1861,  and  after  en- 
gaging in  various  business  enterprises,  established,  in 
1867,  the  banking  house  in  Salem  of  which  he  has 
ever  since  been  the  head  and  for  the  last  thirty  years  the 
sole  owner — perhaps  the  only  instance  on  record  where 
a  newspaper  man  actually  started  and  maintained  a  bank. 

During  its  existence  as  a  Territory  and  State  Oregon 
has  experienced  its  full  measure  of  stormy  political  cam- 
paigns, prominent  men  being  voted  up.  voted  down  and 
voted  out,  combinations  effected  which  have  produced 
the  most  unexpected  results,  agreements  made  over 
night  which  astonished  the  natives,  and  others,  but  no 
man  has  ever  wielded  so  autocratic  a  power  for  so  long 
a  period  as  did  Asahel  Bush.  There  was  nothing  that 
he  desired  to  do  that  he  was  for  a  moment  afraid  to 
do  or  that  he  didn't  do.  A  political  foe  was  an  obstacle 
which  should  be  removed.  That  was  what  foes  were 
for!  Having  the  Statesman  at  his  command,  as  well 
as  the  English  language,  his  meat  and  drink  were  found 
in  lampooning  and  lambasting  his  political  enemies,  and 
the  last  five  years  of  the  territorial  regime  were  luminous 
with  the  lavish  display  of  his  wonderful  power  as  a 
writer  and  political  dictator. 

The  files  of  the  Statesman  for  those  years  furnish  a 
splendid  political  history  of  Oregon  in  its  swaddling 
clothes,  and  give  a  most  interesting  picture  of  the 
methods  pursued  in  that  turbulent  era  by  the  group  of 
really  able  men  who  had  drifted  here,  most  of  them 
with  the  intention  of  engaging  in  the  political  game 
usually  offered  in  a  new  country,  and  which  was  espec- 
ially promising  and  alluring  in  Oregon  at  that  time.    The 


82  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

tirades  in  which  the  Oregon  editors  engaged  in  the  later 
'50's  were  so  pronounced  and  extreme  in  their  nature 
that  "the  Oregon  style"  was  known  far  and  near.  The 
"star"  writer  was  Asahel  Bush, — and  it  but  added  to 
his  popularity. 

During  the  year  1904  I  was  the  editor  of  the  Daily 
Statesman,  and  each  Sunday  morning  I  w^ould  reprint 
extracts  from  the  Statesman  just  fifty  years  before.  It 
proved  a  very  interesting  department,  not  only  to  the 
old-timers,  but  to  the  newer  residents,  who  marveled  at 
the  nature  of  the  political  contests  of  long  ago.  To  "dig 
up"  this  stuff  for  the  Sunday  paper  proved  a  very  fasci- 
nating pastime  each  Saturday  afternoon.  One  day  I 
ran  across  an  article  which  roasted  General  Joseph  Lane 
to  a  finish,  the  latter  distinguished  gentleman  and  Mr. 
Bush,  though  both  were  Democrats,  having  broken  their 
political  friendship  because  of  their  difference  of  opinion 
on  the  slavery  question,  the  bad  feeling  being  ac- 
centuated, to  be  sure,  by  the  natural  action  of  local 
strifes  and  ambitions  through  a  period  of  ten  years' 
scrapping.  Lane  had  wTitten  a  letter  which  had  greatly 
displeased  Mr.  Bush,  and  as  the  old  General  had  a  con- 
firmed habit  of  showing  his  utter  indifference  to  the  rules 
laid  down  by  the  man  who  had  invented  spelling,  the 
brilliant  and  ebullient  editor  not  only  applied  his  battery 
of  ridicule  to  the  subject-matter  of  the  Lane  letter,  but 
printed  it  with  its  original  arrangement  of  the  alphabet 
unchanged.  It  made  "mighty  interestin'  reading."  and 
I  reprinted  an  extract  from  it  of  such  liberal  dimensions 
that  its  encroachment  upon  "valuable  space"  was  entirely 
ignored. 

The  next  day  I  met  Mr.  Bush  in  front  of  his  bank  and 
he  accosted  me  with  a  frown  which  seldom  accompanies 
an  inward  feeling  of  hilarity. 

"Say,"  he  remarked,  "why  do  you  reprint  those 
extracts  from  the  Statesman  so  long  ago  that  most  people 
have  forgotten  the  matters  they  tell  about?" 

"Why  not?"  I  inquired.  "Important  history  was 
being  made  in  those  days,  and  people  living  now  are 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  83 

glad  to  know  how  it  was  made  and  who  the  chief  actors 


were." 


"Yes,"  he  repHed,  "but  that  extract  you  pubHshed 
yesterday  about  Jo.  Lane  should  not  have  been  repro- 
duced. Lane  was  a  pretty  good  man,  after  all,  and  we 
were  living  in  exciting  times  and  many  things  were  said 
that  it  would  have  been  just  as  well  to  have  left 
unuttered." 

"No  doubt,"  I  said,  "but  the  same  may  be  said  of 
most  men  who  have  figured  in  the  history  of  most  coun- 
tries. It  is  likely  that  Blaine,  in  after  years,  would  have 
been  glad  to  suppress  the  ebullition  of  satire  he  fired  at 
Conkling  while  they  were  both  members  of  the  lower 
House  of  Congress,  but  the  history  of  the  United  States 
would  be  crippled  in  one  of  its  most  important  chapters 
if  it  failed  to  give  the  fullest  details  of  that  red-hot 
verbal  engagement  between  two  of  the  most  renowned 
forensic  gladiators  America  has  ever  known." 

But  this  didn't  satisfy  Mr.  Bush — he  never  surrenders 
an  opinion  nor  has  he  ever  been  known  to  acknowledge 
a  conversion.    His  reply  was  : 

"Yes,  but  Lane  has  many  descendants  living  now  in 
all  parts  of  Oregon,  and  the  publication  of  these  things 
will  make  them  mad — they  won't  like  it." 

"That  may  be,"  I  insisted,  "but  there  is  a  bare  possi- 
bility that  General  Lane  and  his  relatives  didn't  approve 
of  the  articles  at  the  time  you  first  printed  them,  and 
certainly  they  cared  more  about  the  matter  and  were 
entitled  to  more  consideration  at  that  time  than  his 
descendants  are  now." 

To  this  Mr.  Bush  replied  that  they  all,  perhaps,  went 
too  far  in  the  excitement  of  the  campaign,  when  every- 
body was  striving  for  the  ascendency  in  the  new  terri- 
tory, and  that  he  was  "younger  then  than  now."  The 
fact  was  that  in  after  years,  when  they  were  both  old 
men  and  had  permanently  retired  from  the  activities 
of  public  life,  Bush  and  Lane  renewed  their  earlier 
friendship  and  often  laughed  at  the  bitterness  which 
characterized  the  contests  in  which  they  had  engaged. 


84  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

General  Lane,  of  whom  more  will  be  said  in  this  volume 
later,  was  twenty-two  years  older  than  Mr.  Bush  and 
died  in  1881,  aged  eighty  years.  But  the  veteran 
editor  and  banker  still  lives  in  Salem  at  the  advanced 
age  of  eighty-eight  years,  attends  to  his  office  business 
every  day,  maintains  his  cheerful  disposition,  takes  a 
deep  interest  in  current  events,  has  but  little  use  for 
many  of  the  modern  innovations  in  the  forms  of  govern- 
ment, and  quite  recently  remarked  that,  after  all,  in  his 
opinion,  the  people  of  Oregon  were  fully  as  well  gov- 
erned when  the  "Salem  Clique"  was  in  the  saddle  as  now. 
Mr.  Bush  is  a  very  cultured  gentleman  of  the  old 
school.  He  still  wears  the  tall  standing  collar  of  the 
old-time  gentlemen  of  ante-bellum  days,  and  has  worn 
precisely  the  same  style  of  hat  for  forty  years  without 
change, — always  new  and  becoming,  totally  unlike  that 
ever  worn  by  any  other  man,  since  no  other  man  has 
been  able  to  discover  where  it  is  obtained.  He  has  the 
respect  of  all  the  people  of  this  region,  and  his  name  will 
remain  among  the  first  on  the  remarkable  list  of  brave 
and  ambitious  men  who  managed  the  public  affairs  of 
Oregon  during  the  formative  period  of  its  existence,  in 
the  decade  immediately  preceding  the  Civil  War.  He 
was  a  Douglas  Democrat,  upheld  the  cause  of  the  Union 
during  the  Rebellion,  and  was  seriously  considered  by 
President  Cleveland,  at  the  time  of  his  second  inaugura- 
tion, as  a  proper  man  to  appoint  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Among  the  prominent  men  who  constituted  the 
"Salem  Clique"  in  the  territorial  days,  and  who  was  one 
of  the  first  trustees  of  the  Willamette  University,  was 
Benjamin  F.  Harding.  As  I  hark  back  now  to  the  time 
when  I  had  not  yet  reached  my  teens  I  recall  how  the 
conversation  around  my  father's  fireside,  when  we  lived 
in  Silverton,  so  often  included  references  to  "Ben" 
Harding.  My  father  and  all  his  people  were  Douglas 
Democrats,  and  my  first  recollection  of  political  affairs 
was  when,  in  1858,  being  then  seven  years  old,  people 
who  came  to  our  house  would  discuss  the  effects  of  the 
Lincoln-Douglas  debate.  The  usual  decision  was  that 
the  "Little  Giant"  had  utterly  vanquished  the  "Illinois 
Rail-splitter."  Asahel  Bush,  then  editor  of  the  Salem 
Statesman,  Ben  Harding  and  James  W.  Nesmith  were 
the  leaders  of  the  anti-slavery,  or  Douglas,  wing  of  the 
Oregon  Democracy,  while  Joseph  Lane,  Delazon  Smith 
and  George  K.  Shiel  were  the  foremost  men  in  the 
Breckinridge  forces,  the  pronounced  champions  of  the 
extension  of  slavery  into  any  or  all  the  Territories. 

In  those  days  Ben  Harding  was  in  his  prime,  as  well 
as  in  his  element,  politically.  He  was  a  genial  man, 
a  good  organizer  and  counsellor  and  universally  popu- 
lar. Born  in  Pennsylvania  in  1823,  he  came  to  Oregon 
and  at  once  settled  in  Marion  County.  He  was  a 
lawyer,  but  never  seriously  followed  his  profession 
after  arriving  here.  He  was  a  born  politician  and 
made  little  claim  to  any  other  business  for  many  years, 
though  he  owned  a  good  farm  on  French  Prairie, 
near  Salem.  He  was  appointed  United  States  District 
Attorney  in  1853,  ^.nd  was  territorial  secretary  from 
1855  to  1859.  In  1862  the  State  Legislature  elected  him 
to  fill  the  unexpired  term  of  Colonel  Edward  D.  Baker — 

85 


86  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

who  had  been  killed  at  the  battle  of  Ball's  Bluff  on 
October  21,  1861 — in  the  United  States  Senate.  He  was 
at  one  time  county  clerk  for  Marion  County,  and  while 
holding  that  position  built  the  house  in  which  Judge 
William  Waldo  now  lives.  Ke  could  secure  any  office 
he  wanted  by  merely  indicating  his  preference,  during 
the  territorial  days,  and  for  some  time  after  the  State 
government  was  inaugurated,  or  until  the  Democratic 
party  lost  control  of  its  affairs,  and  for  ten  years  or 
more  he  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  and  influential 
men  in  Oregon  Territory.  He  died  at  his  home  in  Lane 
County  in  1899,  aged  seventy-six  years. 

John  Flinn,  another  member  of  the  first  Board  of 
Trustees  of  the  Willamette  University,  born  in  Ireland 
on  March  26,  181 7,  is  now  past  ninety- four  years  of  age, 
and  in  such  excellent  physical  condition  that  there  is 
every  prospect  that  he  will  reach  the  century  mark.  He 
regrets  that  his  birth  did  not  occur  eleven  days  sooner, 
in  order  that  he  might  have  saved  much  time  in  the 
course  of  a  long  life  by  celebrating  two  birthdays  at 
once,  but  he  is  a  born  philosopher  and  accepts  these 
little  misfits  with  entire  composure.  He  remained  in 
Ireland  until  he  was  twenty-three  years  of  age,  when  he 
came  to  America  and  lived  some  time  in  St.  John's,  New 
Brunswick.  During  that  time  he  entered  the  ministry 
and  began  his  long  service  in  that  calling  in  1840,  now 
full  seventy-one  years  ago ! 

In  1850  he  sailed  for  Oregon  and  arrived  here  in 
the  fall  of  that  year,  at  the  time  when  "Father"  Wilbur 
was  completing  the  construction  of  the  church  where  the 
Taylor  Street  landmark  now  stands.  Mr.  Flinn  takes 
great  pleasure  in  relating  how  Mr.  Wilbur  took  part  in 
the  manual  labor,  and  also  how  he  would  solicit  assistance 
from  the  gamblers,  who  even  at  that  time  were  prosecut- 
ing a  profitable  business  in  the  little  city  on  the 
Willamette.  The  one  thing  that  may  be  said  in  favor 
of  gamblers,  as  a  class,  is  that  they  are  universally  liberal 
in  their  donations  of  money  for  almost  any  purpose 
which    savors    of   charity.      From    them    Mr.    Wilbur 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  87 

received  much  help  in  footing  the  bills  for  the  erection 
of  his  new  church  building.  The  good  old  soul  had  not 
learned  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  "tainted  money," 
and  had  the  old-fashioned  idea,  evidently,  that  no  dollar 
itself  is  ever  "tainted,"  though  the  man  who  uses  it 
for  a  disreputable  purpose  may  himself  be  contaminated. 

Mr.  Flinn  preached  his  first  sermon  in  Oregon  on  the 
next  day  after  his  arrival  in  Portland,  in  September, 
1850.  and  has  been  actively  engaged  in  his  good  work 
ever  since,  though,  of  course,  in  recent  years  he  has  had 
no  regular  charge.  Whenever  he  appears  at  any  public 
gathering,  however,  he  is  certain  to  be  called  upon  for 
a  "talk,"  and  then  the  humor  which  was  born  with 
him,  and  which  has  grown  with  his  growth,  bubbles  over, 
to  the  great  enjoyment  of  his  audience.  When  he  falls 
into  a  reminiscent  mood  one  never  tires  listening  to  his 
relation  of  pioneer  experiences. 

An  amusing  incident,  and  one  which  he  enjoys  de- 
scribing, occurred  at  the  rude  Congregational  church 
building  during  the  morning  service  on  his  first  Sunday 
in  Portland.  Rev.  Horace  Lj-man,  Sr..  was  delivering 
the  sermon  at  the  time.  At  a  certain  point,  as  he  was 
describing  with  much  feeling  the  betrayal  of  the  Savior 
by  the  Apostle  Judas  Iscariot  and  the  tears  were  appear- 
ing in  the  eyes  of  the  more  emotional  of  the  congrega- 
tion, a  disturbance  suddenly  began  to  take  place, 
evidently  under  the  floor  of  the  building.  It  did  not 
appear  by  degrees,  but  burst  out  in  full  force  at  once. 
The  fact  was — and  it  became  apparent  without  any 
preliminaries — that  a  lot  of  hogs  were  sleeping  under 
the  floor,  which  was  but  a  foot  off  the  ground  and  com- 
posed of  boards  loosely  put  together.  The  room 
appeared  to  be  wholly  inadequate  for  the  size  and 
number  of  the  hogs  which  had  taken  refuge  there.  The 
congregation  was  seated  on  benches  around  the  walls 
of  the  building,  and  as  the  insurrection  proceeded,  the 
boards  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  were  pushed  out  of 
position  by  the  "rise  of  pork"  and  the  services  neces- 
sarily   suspended    while    a    few    volunteers    drove    the 


88  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

intruders  out  into  the  adjoining  woods — about  where 
the  City  Hall  is  now^ — and  the  story  of  Judas'  treachery 
was  resumed. 

I  always  love  to  meet  Father  Flinn.  His  good  humor 
is  infectious  and  he  keeps  the  brighter  side  of  life  to 
the  fore,  while  he  minimizes  the  ills  which  are  inevitable. 
I  have  never  had  the  dyspepsia,  nor  the  "blues"  very 
often,  but  if  I  were  subject  to  either  misfortune  I  would 
cultivate  the  company  of  Father  Flinn  and  learn  at  his 
feet  the  lesson  of  good  cheer,  good  sense  and  sound 
philosophy  as  to  the  duty  of  the  average — and  other — 
man. 

Lafayette  Grover,  another  of  the  Willamette  Univer- 
sity trustees,  who  dev'oted  much  of  his  time  to  its 
upbuilding  in  the  days  when  it  re(juired  a  great  deal  of 
careful  nursing,  has  occupied  a  larger  share  in  the 
public  life  of  Oregon  as  a  Territory  and  State  than  any 
other  man.  He  was  born  in  Maine  in  1823  and  came  to 
Oregon  in  1851  in  search  of  his  fortune,  as  did  so  many 
ambitious  young  men  of  the  Eastern  States  at  that  time. 
His  first  public  work  was  to  assemble,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  records  of  the  Territory  as  far  back  as  any  had  been 
kept  and  to  prepare  them  in  a  permanent  fomi.  This 
was  a  difificult  task,  for  the  reason  that  no  records  of 
any  kind  were  kept  of  some  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
preliminary  meetings  which  were  held  by  "the  settlers 
of  the  Willamette  valley,"  and  others  were  not  only 
incomplete,  but  somewhat  inaccurate.  I  have  spent  many 
days  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State  searching 
these  early  archives  collected  by  Mr.  Grover  in  1853  and 
have  always  found  them  of  great  interest  and  value. 
Many  laws  were  enacted  by  the  early  territorial  Legisla- 
tures, a  record  of  whose  progress  through  the  lawmak- 
ing body  would  not  for  a  moment  stand  the  test  of  our 
latter-day,  fine-grained  critics,  who  can  frequently  save 
those  unquestionably  guilty  of  murder  from  the  gallows 
by  proving  to  "the  satisfaction  of  the  court"  that  a 
comma  should  have  been  in  a  different  place  in  a 
sentence. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  89 

But  this  work  of  Mr.  Grover  is  of  great  value  and 
he  did  it  well.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Con- 
stitutional Convention,  which  in  1857  framed  the  organic 
act  under  which  Oregon  was  admitted  to  the  Union  in 
1859,  and  proved  to  be  one  of  its  most  active  members. 
There  has  been  no  Constitutional  Convention  in  Oregon 
since,  in  fifty-two  years  of  statehood,  but  under  the 
"Oregon  System,"  of  which  so  much  has  been  said  in  all 
parts  of  the  United  States  within  the  past  five  years, 
the  Constitution  of  Oregon  has  been  amended  out  of  all 
recognition  and  can  be  changed  with  as  little  difficulty 
as  would  be  met  in  the  passage  of  a  law  taxing  dogs. 

In  that  convention  Mr.  Grover  served  with  signal 
ability  and  at  the  election  held  under  it  for  State  and 
other  officers  he  was  chosen  to  represent  Oregon  in  the 
lower  House  of  Congress.  The  admission  of  the  State 
was  not  efifected.  however,  until  February  14,  1859, 
seventeen  days  before  the  expiration  of  the  term  for 
which  he  had  been  elected.  Upon  his  return  to  Oregon 
he  resumed  the  practice  of  law  at  Salem,  his  home,  and 
was  not  prominent  in  political  affairs  until  1870,  when 
he  was  elected  Governor  and  re-elected  in  1874.  At  the 
legislative  session  in  September.  1876.  in  the  middle  of 
his  second  gubernatorial  term,  he  was  chosen  United 
States  Senator,  his  wish  during  that  period  being  law 
with  his  party. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  famous  Hayes-Tilden 
trouble  arose,  and  it  finally  developed  that  as  Oregon 
went  so  would  go  the  election.  And  the  contest  was  so 
uncomfortably  close  that  the  loss  of  even  one  of  its  three 
electoral  votes  to  Hayes  would  result  in  the  election  of 
Tilden.  It  was  what  might  be  called  a  "close  shave"  for 
the  Republican  party  at  a  most  critical  time  in  its  history. 

Everybody,  leading  Democrats  as  well  as  leading 
Republicans,  was  searching  the  election  returns  diligently 
for  som_e  technicality  that  would  justify  "going  behind 
the  returns."  with  the  hope,  and  without  doubt  the  inten- 
tion, of  discovering  a  vital  error  which  would  change 
the  result.     At  this  juncture  it  was  found  that  one  of 


90  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  Republican  electors,  Dr.  J.  W.  Watts,  of  Lafayette, 
Yamhill  County,  was  the  postmaster  in  his  home  town, 
a  position  which  probably  yielded  a  salary  of  one 
hundred  dollars  a  year.  But  the  Federal  law  governing 
the  qualifications  of  Presidential  electors  prescribed  that 
they  should  not  be  holding  any  "remunerative"  office,  and 
the  eagle-eyed  Democrats,  perceiving  the  value  of  the 
discovery,  and  its  possible  influence  at  that  critical 
juncture,  made  the  most  of  it.  The  news  was  imme- 
diately sent  to  Washington,  with  the  result  that  the  con- 
test was  re-opened  with  a  partisan  vigor  which  has  not 
been  surpassed,  perhaps  not  equalled,  since  the  formation 
of  the  Government. 

Of  course  everybody  knew  that  Oregon  had  voted 
decisively  in  favor  of  the  election  of  General  Hayes. 
There  was  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  what  the  people 
of  the  State  wanted,  nor  as  to  what  they  intended  when 
they  expressed  their  choice  for  President.  But  the 
admitted  wish  of  the  people  was  not  to  be  considered  for 
a  moment.  There  was  a  dazzling  prize  at  stake,  and 
everything  was  fair  in  a  war  of  this  character.  To 
correct  the  error,  Dr.  Watts  resigned  his  position  as 
postmaster,  thus  creating  a  vacancy  in  the  Oregon 
college,  and  the  other  two  members,  assuming  the  right 
to  fill  a  vacancy,  when  they  met  at  the  State  capital  to 
cast  their  votes  for  President  at  once  selected  Dr.  Watts, 
who  at  the  time  held  no  "remunerative  office."  The 
doctor  without  hesitation  accepted  the  unexpected  honor, 
took  his  seat  as  a  member  of  the  college  and  within  a 
few  minutes  three  votes  were  cast  for  Rutherford  B. 
Hayes  for  President  of  the  United  States.  And  that 
act  made  him  the  national  Chief  Executive  for  four 
years ! 

But  not  without  a  struggle  which  is  unparalleled  in 
our  history.  Governor  Grover,  always  a  partisan  who 
could  be  counted  upon  under  any  sort  of  party  stress, 
refused  to  recognize  the  election  of  Dr.  Watts  as  a 
member  of  the  State  electoral  college  and  gave  him  no 
commission.      Instead,    he    appointed    the    Democratic 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  91 

candidate  who  had  received  the  highest  number  of  votes 
and  he  went  to  Washington  City  with  his  certificate  of 
appointment.  The  Electoral  Commission,  however, 
being  inclined  to  the  Republican  party,  refused  to 
recognize  the  legality  of  his  claims  and  accepted  the 
vote  of  Dr.  Watts,  just  as  the  same  body  would  have 
reversed  this  finding  had  a  majority  of  its  members  been 
Democrats — so  prone  are  we  all  to  see  and  interpret 
matters  in  accordance  with  our  wishes  and  personal 
views. 

This  exciting  national  episode  developed  into  a  near- 
scandal,  as  it  was  charged  that  cipher  dispatches  passed 
between  those  having  the  Tilden  interests  in  charge  in 
Washington  and  the  Oregon  State  authorities  which 
hinted  at  some  transactions  that  were  not  intended  to 
be  generally  known.  It  reached  so  far  that  charges  were 
made  against  Governor  Grover  as  to  certain  features 
of  his  election  to  the  Senate,  and  a  committee  actually 
came  to  Oregon  and  investigated  the  matter,  but  it  came 
to  naught,  and  he  was  permitted  to  conclude  his  six 
years'  service  without  further  molestation. 

From  the  date  of  his  arrival  in  Oregon  in  1851  until 
his  retirement  from  the  Senate  in  1883,  Mr.  Grover  held 
a  greater  variety  of  public  positions,  including  the 
highest  within  the  gift  of  the  people,  than  any  other 
man.  He  was  clerk  of  the  United  States  District  Court; 
prosecuting  attorney  for  the  second  district,  which  then 
extended  from  Oregon  City  to  the  California  line; 
raised  a  company  of  men  to  fight  Indians  in  the  Rogue 
River  country;  was  a  member  of  the  territorial  Legisla- 
ture in  1855  from  Marion  County  and  was  returned  the 
next  year,  when  he  was  chosen  Speaker  of  the  House ; 
was  elected  a  member  of  the  Constitutional  Convention, 
which  met  in  Salem  on  August  17.  1857,  and  was 
chosen  the  new  State's  first  Representative  in  Congress 
in  1858.  From  this  date  until  1870  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  practice  of  the  law  in  Salem  and  was  prominent 
in  business  enterprises  of  various  kinds.  In  1866  he  was 
chairman  of  the  Democratic   State  Convention  and  of 


92  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  State  committee  in  the  campaign  which  followed. 
Four  years  later  he  concluded  he  would  like  to  be  Gov- 
ernor of  the  State,  and  it  was  so.  His  preference  was 
to  serve  a  second  term,  and  a  second  term  was  given  him, 
the  State  being  Democratic  and  the  party  gospel  at  that 
time  entirely  subject  to  his  interpretation  of  the  text. 
By  a  singular  combination  of  circumstances,  when  the 
middle  of  his  second  term  as  Governor  had  come  around 
he  decided  that  he  was  precisely  the  proper  age  to  enter 
the  United  States  Senate,  communicated  his  decision  to 
the  Democratic  members  of  the  Legislature,  which  met 
in  September,  1876,  and  on  the  day  provided  by  law 
a  certificate  of  election  was  made  out  in  his  name. 

Indeed,  in  those  days  Lafayette  Grover  was  a  power 
in  the  land,  and  he  understood  how  to  wield  it  in  the 
way  that  would  best  serve  his  personal  ambitions.  He 
was  the  first  Governor  of  Oregon  who  was  able  to  secure 
a  reelection,  though  since  then  Sylvester  Pennoyer  has 
had  that  distinction,  as  has  also  George  E.  Chamberlain 
— all  Democrats.  In  this  connection  it  will  not  be  amiss 
to  remark  that  the  people  of  Oregon  have  chosen  five 
Republicans  and  five  Democrats  to  the  ofhce  of  Gover- 
nor (hiring  the  fifty  years  of  its  statehood,  excluding 
the  present  incumbent,  who  is  a  Democrat,  and  it  is 
a  somewhat  singular  circumstance  that  no  Republican 
has  been  able  to  succeed  himself,  while  three  Democrats 
have  made  that  record.  The  fact  is  that  no  Republican 
Governor  has  ever  been  renominated  by  his  party,  the 
inference  being  that  there  has  been  such  a  perfect  wealth 
of  superior  material  among  them  for  that  position  that, 
even  restricting  them  to  one  term,  the  aspirants  cannot 
be  satisfied  within  the  ordinary  lifetime,  while  with  the 

Democrats  the  case  is  dif ,  however,  it  is  best  to  be 

charitable. 

Governor  Grover  is  a  very  cultured  man.  In  his 
capacity  of  politician  he  was  always  dignified  in  his 
bearing  and  in  a  manner  reserved  when  the  situation 
did  not  call  for  a  different  mien.  But  with  all  this  he 
was  affable,  kind,  approachable  and  personally  popular, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  93 

as  any  man  with  his  remarkably  successful  record  must 
necessarily  be.  Soon  after  his  retirement  from  the 
United  States  Senate,  in  1883,  he  removed  to  Portland, 
where  he  engaged  in  many  business  undertakings. 
During  the  past  fifteen  years  he  has  been  a  confirmed 
invalid  and  has  at  no  time  appeared  in  public* 

*It  is  a  somewhat  strange  circumstance  that  since  the 
first  of  this  chapter  was  written  this  morning — May  12 — 
Governor  Grover  has  passed  to  the  life  beyond,  the  even- 
ing papers  just  at  hand  announcing  that  while  at  his 
breakfast  he  was  attacked  with  a  fainting  spell  and  died 
within  a  few  moments,  at  the  advanced  age  of  nearly 
eighty-eight  years. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Dr.  W.  H.  Willson, — spelled  with  two  I's, — was  born 
in  Massachusetts  in  1805,  came  to  Oregon  in  1837  and 
was  among  the  first  settlers  in  Salem,  the  fact  being 
that  he  made  the  original  plat  of  that  city  and  should 
be  known  as  its  founder.  He  took  up  a  claim  which 
included  the  tract  later  ow-ned  by  Rev.  J.  L.  Parrish,  in 
North  Salem,  and  a  part  of  the  present  campus  of  the 
Willamette  University.  He  also  donated  to  the  city 
of  Salem  that  beautiful  tract  known  as  Willson  Avenue, 
one  block  wide — and  the  Salem  blocks  are  unusually 
large — and  four  blocks  long.  It  covers  the  distance 
between  the  State  Capitol  and  the  Marion  County  court- 
house, is  artistically  arranged  with  shade  trees  of 
various  kinds  and  has  winding  walks  among  a  lavish 
display  of  flowers  during  ten  months  of  the  year — all 
of  which  attractions  make  it  a  favorite  resort  for  Salem's 
people  and   their  visitors. 

In  1853  Dr.  Willson  established  a  drug  store  in  Salem, 
the  first  in  the  future  capital  of  Oregon,  locating  it  one 
block  west  of  Commercial  Street,  near  South  Mill  Creek. 
He  did  a  thriving  business  in  that  line  and  also  practised 
his  profession.  While  in  this  business  he  erected  a  line 
home  one  block  north  of  the  present  site  of  the  Capitol, 
where  he  lived  until  his  death,  and  where  his  family, 
consisting  of  his  wife  and  three  daughters,  lived  during 
my  school  days  in  Salem. 

Dr.  Willson's  ancestors  originally  came  from  Salem, 
England,  and  Salem,  New  Hampshire,  received  its  name 
from  them.  Oregon's  capital  owes  its  name  to  Dr. 
Willson,  who  naturally  desired  to  perpetuate  it  in  the 
new  country  in  which  he  had  permanently  located.  Its 
streets  were  platted  by  him  and  the  donation  of  the 
avenue  made  at  the  same  time.    The  original  plat  is  now 

94 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  95 

in  the  possession  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  J.  K.  Gill,  of 
Portland. 

In  August,  1840,  Dr.  Willson  married  Miss  Chloe 
Clark,  a  member  of  the  celebrated  Lausanne  party,  which 
came  to  Oregon  the  previous  June.  She  was  the  first 
teacher  in  the  Oregon  Institute  and  remained  in  that 
position  for  several  years.  Dr.  Willson  was  a  man  of 
especially  cheerful  nature  and  his  optimistic  disposition 
made  him  a  favorite  with  all  his  acquaintances.  He  sold 
his  drug  store  in  the  spring  of  1856  to  W.  K.  Smith, 
but  retained  it  as  his  headquarters  while  following  his 
profession  as  a  physician.  In  April  of  that  year,  while 
he  and  Dr.  Smith  were  sitting  by  the  stove.  Dr.  Willson 
was  relating  to  Smith  the  circumstance  of  a  French 
woman  who  had  that  morning  made  a  purchase  in  the 
store,  the  humorous  feature  being  the  misapplication  of 
the  word  used  by  her  in  describing  the  article  she  wanted. 
While  the  two  were  laughing  at  the  recital,  Smith  noticed 
that  Dr.  Willson  leaned  far  over  in  his  chair  and 
appeared  to  be  in  great  pain.  After  waiting  a  moment 
and  satisfying  himself  that  something  was  wrong,  he 
jumped  up  and  went  to  his  friend's  rescue,  only  to 
discover  that  he  had  completely  collapsed.  A  physician, 
Dr.  A.  M.  Belt,  was  sent  for  at  once,  but  all  efforts  to 
revive  him  failed  and  he  died  Avithin  a  half-hour  from 
the  effects  of  heart  failure,  to  which  he  had  been  subject 
for  several  years. 

Dr.  Willson  was  the  first  secretary  of  the  Willamette 
University  Board  of  Trustees  and  held  that  position 
until  his  death.  He  was  especially  happy  in  his 
domestic  relations  and  his  untimely  demise  was  keenly 
felt  by  a  host  of  friends. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Perhaps  of  all  the  men  who  figured  largely  in  the 
public  affairs  of  Oregon  during  its  formative  period 
less  is  known  to-day  of  Thomas  II.  Pearne  than  of  any 
other.  For  nearly  fifteen  years  he  was  prominent  in  the 
public  eye.  and  took  a  leading  part  not  only  in  church 
matters — he  was  a  leading  Methodist — but  was  always 
to  the  front  in  the  discussion  of  the  political  questions 
that  demanded  the  attention  of  the  people.  For  the 
entire  period  of  his  residence  in  Oregon  he  served  on 
the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Willamette  University.  Yet 
to-day  not  many  Oregonians,  except  the  few  still  surviv- 
ing who  were  here  at  that  time,  know  anything  about 
Pearne  or  ever  heard  of  him! 

Thomas  H.  Pearne  was  born  in  New  York  State  on 
June  7,  1820,  and  before  reaching  his  majority  entered 
the  ministry  of  the  Methodist  Church.  He  followed  his 
profession  in  various  parts  of  the  Eastern  States  until 
185 1,  when  he  was  transferred  to  the  Oregon  Confer- 
ence. Physically  and  mentally  he  was  a  man  of  unusual 
vigor,  combative  to  a  fault  almost,  impatient  of  opposi- 
tion, and  frequently  verging  upon  the  very  extreme  di 
intolerance.  He  was  a  born  fighter,  with  the  ability  to 
follow  successfully  his  bent  in  that  direction. 

In  1855  the  Methodists  founded  the  Pacific  Christian 
/Advocate,  which  has  been  published  continuously  since, 
and  Pearne  was  elected  its  editor.  This  position  he  held 
without  intermission  until  1864,  when  he  asked  for  a 
leave  of  absence  to  join  the  Christian  Commission,  which 
was  then  engaged  in  assisting  the  Union  army.  After 
the  war  was  over,  he  settled  in  eastern  Tennessee,  took 
charge  of  a  church  there  and  never  returned  to  Oregon. 

During  the  years  Pearne  was  editor  of  the  Advocate 
he  used  its  columns  for  the  free  discussion  of  political 

96 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  97 

questions,  and  since  he  contended  that  good  poHtics 
meant  good  rehgion,  and  vice  versa,  his  critics  always 
received  as  good  as  they  sent.  He  was  a  very  pronounced 
anti-slavery  man,  holding  that  slavery  was  a  stupendous 
sin  and  that  a  good  Christian  should  fight  sin  wherever 
found. 

My  grandfather  on  my  mother's  side  was  an  ardent 
and  outspoken  Southern  sympathizer  during  the  war, 
and  in  the  years  immediately  preceding  that  event,  while 
spending  weeks  at  a  time  at  his  home  when  a  small  boy, 
I  would  listen  while  he  and  his  friends  discussed  the 
public  situation.  I  remember  that  I  imbibed  from  what 
I  heard  that  a  man  named  Peanie  was  about  the  least 
desirable  of  citizens.  I  think  that  nxD  man,  perhaps,  was 
hated  by  certain  people  in  Oregon  during  those  years 
more  enthusiastically  than  was  Pearne.  I  know  that  as 
a  child  my  impression  was  that  he  was  a  veritable  brute, 
lacking  every  characteristic  of  a  man  fit  to  be  tolerated 
in  society.  But  the  fact  was  he  was  one  of  the  ablest 
of  the  men  in  Oregon  at  that  time  and  was  instrumental 
in  crystallizing  public  opinion  along  lines  which  meant 
the  best  results  for  the  public  weal. 

Mr.  Pearne  was  one  of  the  official  short-hand 
reporters  in  the  State  Constitutional  Convention  of  1857, 
and.  as  a  lobbyist,  took  an  active  part  in  the  struggle  in 
that  body  with  regard  to  its  attitude  on  the  slavery  ques- 
tion— and  he  was  hated  for  that!  That  was  during  his 
editorship  of  the  Advocate.  There  were  thousands  who 
insisted  that  he  was  a  "political  preacher,"  and  that  he 
had  no  right  to  interfere  in  a  contest  of  that  character; 
but  such  criticism  had  as  little  effect  upon  the  belligerent 
editor  as  pouring  water  on  the  back  of  a  duck. 

Pearne  was  an  active  preacher  during  his  nine  years' 
residence  in  Oregon,  in  addition  to  his  other  duties,  and 
had  his  share  of  hardships  and  adventures  incident  to 
conditions  which  prevailed  here  at  that  time.  In  fact, 
he  had  experienced  many  of  them  during  his  different 
pastorates  in  interior  New  York  before  coming  West. 
He  used  to  relate  this  incident : 


98  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"In  my  boyhood,  the  introduction  of  instrumental 
music  in  the  Sunday-school  service  created  much  agita- 
tion and  warm  controversy.  A  maiden  lady  of  mature 
years  came  into  the  church  while  the  first  hymn  was 
being  sung.  I-'or  the  first  time  instruments  had  been 
introduced  into  the  choir  in  the  gallery ;  but  as  she  sat 
under  the  gallery,  directly  below  the  choir,  she  did  not 
observe  them  and  sang  from  the  same  hymn-book  with 
my  mother  with  apparent  zest  and  delight.  After  the 
prayer,  and  after  the  second  hymn  was  announced,  the 
instruments  sounded  the  pitch.  'What  is  that?'  said  she 
to  my  mother.  'Musical  instruments,'  was  the  answer. 
She  was  at  once  seized  with  convulsions  which  lasted 
for  several  days." 

Another  of  Pearne's  experiences — rather  an  exciting 
one  this  time — took  place  in  the  Willamette  valley.  "On 
one  occasion,"  he  said,  "when  I  was  preaching  on  the 
Sabbath  in  Long  Tom,  in  Lane  County,  a  man  became 
deranged.  He  ordered  me  down  from  the  pulpit  that 
he  might  preach.  I  expostulated  with  him.  He  became 
angry  and  pulled  off  his  shoes,  with  which  he  pelted 
me.  His  aim  was  so  good,  and  the  force  with  which  he 
hurled  the  shoes  at  me  so  great,  that  I  had  to  do  some 
dodging  to  save  my  face  from  mutilation.  Then  he  ran 
up  into  the  stand  to  take  me  down.  Strong  men  seized 
him  and  carried  him  away.  There  was  no  lunatic 
hospital  in  Oregon  then  and  a  log  pen  was  made,  in 
which  he  was  placed.  He  was  fed  and  cared  for  in 
that  pen,  but  he  died  in  a  few  months." 

Whether  Pearne  relates  this  incident  to  illustrate  the 
power  of  his  preaching  is  a  matter  which  opens  up  to  the 
reader  a  wide  field  for  conjecture. 

At  another  time  Pearne  was  conducting  a  camp-meet- 
ing on  Rock  Creek,  in  Clackamas  County,  which  was 
attended  by  all  the  different  denominations.  Of  this 
meeting  he  says : 

"One  could  not  determine  from  general  observation 
who  were  Methodists  and  who  were  not.  One  morning  I 
took  a  long  walk  before  breakfast.     Half  a  mile  from 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  99 

the  meeting  I  found  a  man  milking  in  his  kraal,  or 
cow-pen,  whom  I  had  not  seen  at  the  meetings.  I 
entered  into  conversation  with  him  about  as  follows : 

"  'I  don't  think  I  have  seen  you  at  our  meetings  up 
above  here.' 

"  'I  presume  not,'  said  he,  'I  never  go  to  such  places.' 

"  'Why  not  ?'  I  inquired. 

"  *I  don't  believe  in  'em,'  he  said. 

"'Perhaps  you  do  not  profess  religion.' 

"  'O,  yes,  I  do.' 

"'Of  what  Church  are  you  a  member?' 

"  'Of  the  Baptist  Church.' 

"  'But,'  I  said,  'there  are  several  Baptists  camped  up 
here  at  our  meeting.' 

"  'They  are  not  my  kind  of  Baptists,'  he  said. 

"  'What  kind  of  Baptist  Church  is  yours?'  I  inquired. 

"  'It  is  a  Two-Seed  Baptist  Church,  or  a  Two-Prin- 
ciple Baptist  Church,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,'  he 
answered. 

"I  asked  him.  to  explain  and  he  said : 

"  'The  Lord  has  a  s'^ed  and  the  devil  has  a  seed.  The 
devil's  seed  are  goats.  The  Lord's  seeds  are  sheep,  and 
thar's  no  mixin'  of  them  ar'  breeds.  The  devil  has  been 
tryin'  to  make  goats  outen'  the  Lord's  sheep  for  six 
thousand  years  and  has  never  made  a  single  goat  outen 
a  sheep.  And  at  your  camp-meetings  ministers  of  the 
gospel  have  been  tryin'  to  make  sheep  outen  the  devil's 
goats  and  never  made  a  sheep  outen  a  goat  yit.'  " 

Still  another  camp  meeting  experience  of  Pearne's  in 
Oregon  during  the  territorial  days : 

"I  held  a  camp-meeting  once  in  the  forks  of  the  San- 
tiam.  We  had  been  somewhat  annoyed  by  the  Campbell- 
ites,  who  denied  conversion  by  faith  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  who  taught  baptismal  regeneration,  or  conversion 
by  baptism.  Weeks  before  the  meeting  I  announced 
far  and  wide  that  I  would  preach  on  salvation  by  faith, 
as  being  the  Bible  teaching  on  that  subject,  rather  than 
salvation  by  water  baptism  or  immersion,  as  held  by  the 
Campbellites.     My  sermon  lasted  three  hours  and  a  half. 


loo  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Beginning  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  finished 
my  discourse  at  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  I  held  the  audience  all  that  time  without 
a  break.  We  heard  less  about  salvation  by  water  after 
that  sermon  than  we  had  been  accustomed  to  hear 
before." 

Of  course  Brother  Pearne  might  have  misconstrued 
the  fact  that  he  heard  less  about  his  subject  after  that 
sermon  than  before.  It  is  easy  to  understand  why  he  at 
least  ne\er  heard  from  those  same  people  again — after 
their  escape.  And  the  incident  as  related  by  Mr.  Pearne 
illustrates  the  vein  of  intolerance  which  cropped  out  in 
his  dominating  nature  on  every  occasion.  The  same 
spirit  is  shown  in  his  allusion  to  the  members  of  the 
Christian  Church  as  "Campbellites,"  he  being  well  aware 
of  the  fact  that  those  belonging  to  that  denomination 
feel  in  a  measure  insulted  when  so  referred  to. 

Another  Pearne  experience  in  Oregon  was  this : 

"About  a  month  after  reaching  Oregon  I  had  occasion 
to  travel,  on  one  Saturday,  thirty-five  miles  across  coun- 
try to  hold  a  meeting  at  Dimmick's,  on  French  Prairie. 
I  went  to  the  Willamette  River,  expecting  to  find  a  ferry- 
boat at  Champoeg.  ten  miles  beyond  which  was  Dim- 
mick's. But  as  the  boat  had  been  washed  down  the 
river  by  a  freshet,  I  had  to  go  back  and  up  the  river  to 
another  ferry.  Attempting  this,  I  was  lost  in  a  fog.  I 
met  a  boy  driving  cows  to  pasture  and  he  piloted  me  to 
the  house  of  a  German  named  Fulquarts.  I  inquired  of 
him  the  way  to  the  ferry.     He  directed  me  thus : 

"  'Veil,  den,  you  see  my  farm  down  dare  in  de  pottom 
(an  inclosure  of  an  acre  or  two  for  a  truck  patch).  You 
vill  take  dat  farm  up  on  your  right  hand,  and  dat  vill 
bring  you  to  von  very  bad  slough ;  dere  you  had  petter 
git  down  and  lead  your  horse  or  you  vill  mire  down  mit 
him ;  den  you  vill  take  anodder  farm  up  on  your  right 
hand,  and  turn  anodder  corner  down  on  your  left  hand 
and  dat  vill  pring  you  to  de  ferry.'  The  ferryman  was  a 
half-breed  Indian. 

*T  had  to  inquire  my  way  to  Dimmick's.     I  asked  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  loi 

Indian  if  he  could  speak  English,  but  could  not  make 
him  understand  me.     I  said,  'What  is  your  name?' 

"  'Icta,'  he  replied,  which  I  afterward  learned  means 
'what'  in  jargon. 

"I  said,  'Is  your  name  Icta?' 

"  'Wake,'  he  replied.     'Wake'  means  'no.' 

"  'Your  name  is  Icta  Wake  ?'  I  inquired. 

"He  merely  laughed  at  my  verdancy.  Finding  that  I 
could  learn  nothing  from  him,  I  pushed  on,  traveling 
three  or  four  miles,  fording  deep  water.  At  last  I  came 
to  a  whitewashed  house  surrounded  by  a  peach  orchard. 
I  hailed,  and  an  Indian  woman  came  to  the  door.  I 
said,  'Who  lives  here?' 

"  'Lucy,'  she  answered. 

"Supposing  she  had  given  me  her  surname,  I  inquired 
if  her  husband's  name  was  'Lucy.' 

"  'Nawitka,'  she  said. 

"  'Then  your  name  is  Lucy  Nawitka  ?'  I  inquired. 

"She  laughed  at  my  blunder  and  said  in  good  English, 
'My  husband's  name  is  Lucier.'  'Nawitka'  is  the  Chi- 
nook, or  jargon  word,  for  'yes.' 

"I  asked  her  the  way  to  some  American  house.  She 
said  if  I  kept  on  for  a  mile  and  a  half  I  would  reach 
Champoeg,  and  there  I  would  find  Dr.  Newell,  an  Ameri- 
can. Here  I  staid  all  night,  but  I  had  eaten  nothing 
since  morning  and  went  to  bed  supperless.  The  next  day 
the  Doctor  piloted  me  to  Dimmick's,  which  I  reached  by 
church  time." 

In  1864  Mr.  Pearne  was  chairman  of  the  Oregon  dele- 
gation which  attended  the  Republican  National  Conven- 
tion at  Baltimore  where,  as  he  says  in  his  "Notes,"  the 
first  blood  of  the  war  was  shed.  When  the  business  of 
the  convention  was  advanced  enough.  Rev.  Dr.  J.  Mc- 
Kendree  Riley  made  the  opening  prayer.  It  was  deeply 
affecting.  He  thanked  the  Lord  that  after  four  years 
of  bloody  war  we  were  enabled  to  hold  a  national  con- 
vention in  the  city  of  Baltimore.  His  tones  were  pathetic. 
The  convention  stood  during  its  delivery.  Many  of  the 
members  wept   freely.     One  man   in  particular,  of  the 


I02  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Ohio  delegation,  could  not  refrain  from  sobbing  and 
weeping  violently.  In  the  preliminaries  of  the  conven- 
tion he  had  been  very  talkative  and.  withal,  quite  profuse 
in  the  use  of  profane  language. 

After  the  prayer,  however,  when  the  convention  was 
seated,  one  of  his  own  delegation  challenged  the  profane 
man  thus  : 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  that  you  were  so  d pious." 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "I  don't  cry  very  much  nor 

very  often,  as  a  rule,  but  that  prayer  was  so  d good, 

it  just  drew  the  juice  out  of  me  in  spite  of  everything." 

After  spending  thirteen  vigorous  years  in  Oregon,  Mr. 
Pearne  finally  accepted  a  pastorate  in  Cincinnati,  w^here 
he  preached  for  many  years.  He  died  in  that  city  not 
many  years  since,  well  advanced  in  age.  strong  in  his 
convictions  and  courageous  in  expressing  them  to  the 
last. 


CHAPTER  XV 

From  the  foregoing  brief  account  of  the  relation  which 
the  first  Board  of  Trustees  of  the  Willamette  University 
bore  to  the  subsequent  political  and  material  develop- 
ment of  Oregon  Territory,  it  will  be  seen  that  they  were 
men  of  ability  and  of  unusual  energy,  young,  most  of 
them,  and  dominated  by  the  determination  to  accomplish 
definite  objects.  While  conducting  their  personal  lines 
of  business  they  devoted  much  of  their  time  to  the 
demands  of  the  new  school,  which  was  in  that  dangerous 
transition  state  from  a  mere  Indian  manual  training 
institution,  which  had  proved  a  signal  failure,  to  the  begin- 
ning of  a  great  university,  such  as  had  been  the  ultimate 
dream  of  its  founder,  Jason  Lee. 

And  the  vision  of  its  founder  has  literally  come  true. 
From  the  first  this  pioneer  institution  has  been  a  great 
factor  in  the  educational  development  of  the  entire 
Northwest,  many  hundreds  of  the  most  prominent  men 
and  women  of  this  region  having  at  one  time  been 
students  within  its  walls.  Every  one  of  these  has  since 
been  loyal  to  its  needs  and  hopeful  for  its  continued 
growth  and  usefulness.  After  nearly  sixty  years  of 
activity  in  all  that  makes  for  better  manhood  and  woman- 
hood, in  the  meantime  passing  through  many  seasons  of 
financial  depression  and  encountering  opposition  in  unex- 
pected quarters,  it  is  to-day  on  a  better  footing  than  at 
any  other  time  in  its  long  history.  Several  men  of 
wealth  have  given  endowments  which,  in  the  aggregate, 
afford  substantial  assistance,  and  still  others  are  arrang- 
ing to  increase  the  present  sum  to  a  total  amount  which 
will  end  all  anxiety  with  regard  to  finances. 

Naturally,  the  opportunities  afforded  for  education  in 
every  department  of  practical  endeavor  by  the  State 
University  at  Eugene  and  the  Agricultural  College  at 

103 


I04  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Corvallis  have  greatly  increased  the  difficuUies  with  which 
an  institution  hke  the  Willamette  University,  depending 
solely  upon  private  funds  for  its  support,  must  contend, 
and  for  a  time,  just  after  these  two  State-supported 
schools  began  successfully  to  reach  out  over  the  State 
for  their  pupils,  "Old  Willamette"  was  sore  pressed  for 
the  necessary  means  of  support.  Indeed,  at  that  time 
and  for  some  years  afterward,  its  attendance  had  fallen 
off  to  such  a  degree  that  many  of  its  old  supporters  feared 
that  it  might  not  be  able  to  keep  up  the  fight  for  exist- 
ence. But  fortunately  it  had  a  small  regiment  of  loyal 
friends  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  old  Father  W^aller— its 
indefatigable  solicitor  for  funds  for  a  third  of  a  century 
— who,  once  enlisted  in  a  fight,  "stay  put." 

In  addition  to  this,  it  received  further  aid  through 
the  unusual  fidelity  of  its  Faculty,  many  of  whom  refused 
to  accept  their  salaries,  though  little  able  to  afford  such  a 
sacrifice,  in  order  that  the  all-too-scant  funds  available 
might  be  applied  to  the  payment  of  obligations  demand- 
ing immediate  settlement.  Among  these  especially  loyal 
friends  should  be  mentioned  Hon.  Willis  C.  Hawley,  at 
present  the  Representative  of  the  First  District  in  the 
lower  house  of  Congress,  who  for  several  years  was 
president  of  the  University  during  its  severest  trials. 
His  salary  at  one  time  was  in  arrears  more  than  he  would 
admit ;  but  he  maintained  his  position  through  it  all  and 
applied  that  indomitable  energy,  which  is  one  of  his 
characteristics,  to  gaining  the  victory  that  afterward  came 
as  a  reward  for  unselfish  devotion  to  a  noble  cause.  And 
Mr.  Hawley  had  several  colleagues  in  the  Faculty  w'ho 
manifested  the  same  spirit  of  self-sacrifice. 

When  I  entered  the  Willamette  University  in  Sep- 
tember, 1863.  I  was  twelve  years  old  and  had  for  the 
two  years  previous  attended  what  was  known  as  the 
Central  School,  the  two  at  that  time  being  the  only 
schools  in  all  Salem — though  "all  Salem"  at  that  time 
could  claim  but  about  twel\-e  hundred  people.  There 
w'ere  two  rooms  in  the  Central  building,  one  upstairs  and 
one  down.     The  principal  was  A.   C.  Daniels,  an  old- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  105 

fashioned  pedagogue,  whose  chief  characteristics,  as  I 
now  remember  him,  were  his  uniform  kindness,  and  uni- 
form laziness,  as  manifested  by  the  constancy  with  which 
he  remained  in  the  large  swivel  chair  he  occupied.  He 
was  also  noted  for  his  excellent  penmanship.  He  could 
make  "copy"  for  the  writing  class  that  would  equal  the 
best  specimens  of  ''store"  copy  to  be  found  in  the 
"boughten"  books.  I  veritably  believe  that  my  failure 
to  develop  at  any  subsequent  time  a  good  "hand"  was 
the  direct  result  of  the  discouragement  I  felt  when,  in 
passing  my  desk  occasionally  in  his  search  for  evidences 
of  mischief,  he  would  volunteer  to  write  me  a  "copy." 
He  did  it  with  such  ease  and  painful  perfection  that  the 
contrast  between  my  efforts  and  his  was  most  depressing, 
and  I  was  hindered  from  any  possible  development  along 
that  line.  It  seems  to  be  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
our  human  nature  that  it  detests  a  model  which  is  super- 
human. In  other  words,  the  "model  man"  is  usually 
quite  tiresome  and  is  never  required  to  feel  the  burden 
of  an  overwhelming  popularity.  The  average  man  ad- 
mires more  the  sort  of  good  man  whose  excellent  qualities 
he  feels  he  can  not  only  emulate  but  may  possibly  surpass. 
Give  him  that  kind  of  a  model  and  he  feels  that  he  can 
proceed  hopefully,  but  with  a  "perfect  man"  perpetually 
before  him  as  an  example  his  hopes  droop  and  his  ambi- 
tion withers.  Many  a  man  possessed  with  the  highest 
purposes  has  failed  as  a  husband  because  his  wife  has 
constantly  held  before  his  tired  vision  the  numberless 
excellent  qualities  which  her  first  husband  radiated  at  all 
times  as  from  a  battery  of  concentrated  perfection.  Too 
much  brilliancy  dazzles  and  destroys. 

However,  typewriters  have  since  been  invented  and  I 
long  ago  forgave  Mr.  Daniels  for  his  one  fault.  I 
never  knew  what  became  of  him,  but  I  was  very  much 
pleased  to-day  to  discover  among  my  old  books  a  copy 
of  Sargent's  Fourth  Reader,  on  the  fly-leaf  of  which  is 
my  name,  written  by  Mr.  Daniels,  followed  by  the  words  : 
"Presented  to  him  by  his  teacher,  A.  C.  Daniels,  May  2, 
1862." 


io6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

This  book,  which  was  a  favorite  in  the  pubHc  schools 
at  that  time,  would  be  a  curiosity  now  if  devoted  to  such 
purposes,  since  it  contains  nothing  of  a  simpler  nature 
than  Cicero's  oration  on  the  expulsion  of  Cataline,  the 
great  address  of  Samuel  Adams  in  favor  of  American 
independence  and  Edmund  Burke's  tribute  to  Marie  An- 
toinette, in  which  he  eloquently  gives  expression  to  his 
lament  over  the  decline  of  chi\alry.  Incidentally,  it  con- 
tains Longfellow's  "Hiawatha"  and  a  liberal  extract 
from  an  oration  by  a  man  named  Webster  in  reply  to 
some  remarks  by  a  Senator  from  South  Carolina,  called 
Hayne.  The  character  of  its  contents  is  of  the  best,  but 
somewhat  heavy.  It  was  given  me,  I  presume,  by  reason 
of  its  having  been  the  last  of  the  spring  term  of  school, 
and  as  a  reward  for  the  beautiful  (?)  deportment  which 
had  characterized  me  during  that  period. 

I  found  between  two  leaves,  about  midway  of  the 
book,  an  old  faded  flower,  doubtless  placed  there  by  me 
during  that  term  of  school,  more  than  forty-nine  years 
ago.  It  probably  never  has  been  exposed  to  the  light  in 
the  interval.  To  be  candid.  I  have  given  more  time  to 
thinking  about  this  tiny  reminder  of  the  past  than  to 
either  Webster's  speech  on  his  father's  log  cabin  in  the 
New  Hampshire  hills  or  to  Cato's  message  to  Caesar, 
since  it  seems  of  vastly  more  importance — to  me.  I 
choose  to  believe  that  it  was  the  gift  of  one  of  the  many 
pretty  girls  who  were  pupils  at  that  school,  and  I  have 
found  no  difficulty  in  settling  back  in  my  chair,  while  the 
click  of  the  typewriter  ceases,  and  falling  into  a  pleasant, 
half-sad  reverie  as  I  recall  the  faces  of  a  dozen  little 
beauties  of  about  my  age  who  were  then  on  the  verge 
of  budding  into  young  womanhood.  This  flower  was 
the  innocent  gift  of  one  of  these;  but  whether  the  donor 
was  Maggie,  Alice,  Julia  or  Lizzie — how  shall  I  ever 
know?  But  as  it  would  have  made  little  difference  then, 
so  multifarious  were  the  charms  of  the  little  tempters, 
and  so  free  was  I  from  showing  any  partiality  to  any 
one  of  the  pretty  members  of  the  disturbing  galaxy,  it 
should  not  cause  me  any  particular  anxiety  of  mind  now. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  107 

Nevertheless,  when  I  closed  the  book  a  few  moments 
ago  and  replaced  it  in  the  old-fashioned  bookcase  where 
many  souvenirs  of  former  times  are  stowed  away,  I  care- 
fully placed  that  flower  where  it  has  lain  so  long  undis- 
turbed, making  certain  that  it  had  not  fluttered  to  the 
floor,  and  I  wondered  where  many  of  my  intimate  asso- 
ciates of  that  time  are  to-day. 

The  old  Central  School  was  a  landmark  in  Salem's 
history.  Many  of  the  poorer  families  sent  their  children 
there  because  they  could  not  afford  the  higher  rates 
charged  at  the  Institute,  but  there  were  young  men  and 
women  listed  among  its  pupils  who  in  after  years  rose 
to  prominence  in  the  affairs  of  the  Northwest.  Among 
the  students  during  my  attendance  there  was  "Billy" 
Stanton,  who  was  paralyzed  from  his  hips  down,  and 
who  traveled  over  town  and  to  school  in  a  three-wheeled 
wagon  which  he  propelled  with  a  crank.  He  attended 
school  regularly,  and  it  was  a  duty  of  two  volunteers 
each  morning  to  carry  him  up  the  stairs  to  the  recitation 
room.  Notwithstanding  his  affliction,  he  lived  to  be  past 
fifty  years  old  and  enjoyed  good  health  most  of  that 
time. 

The  Central  building  was  used  for  school  purposes 
until  the  summer  of  1906,  when  a  later  generation  com- 
mitted an  act  of  near-vandalism  by  selling  the  land  on 
which  it  stood  to  the  city  for  a  site  upon  which  to  erect 
a  modern  brick  high  school  building.  This  beautiful  and 
imposing  structure  now  graces  (?)  the  spot  where  fifty 
years  ago  many  of  us  had  our  introduction  to  spelling- 
schools  and  their  kindred  agencies  for  social  pleasures 
and  educational  improvement.  The  old  Central  itself 
was  moved  a  block  away  and  made  to  face  Commercial 
Street,  where  it  now  serves  as  a  hall  for  miscellaneous 
public  gatherings,  etc. 

One  frosty  morning  in  January,  1891,  when  I  was 
serving  as  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  I 
took  a  stroll  after  breakfast  down  to  the  old  Central,  the 
first  time  I  had  seen  the  old  architectural  relic  of  former 
days  in  nearly  thirty  years.     It  was  too  early  for  books 


io8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

to  be  taken  up.  and  a  small  regiment  of  boys  and  girls 
was  engaged  in  playing  "tag" — boys  and  girls  that  knew 
me  not  and  cared  not  a  whit  who  the  stranger  was  that 
halted,  apparently  interested  in  their  game.  I  believe  I 
entertained  a  feeling  of  pity  for  the  little  brats,  as  they 
appeared  to  be  having  a  good  time  when  I  knew  very  well 
that  they  were  the  victims  of  one  of  those  illusions  that 
really  delude — for  there  was,  in  fact,  nothing  there  to 
create  any  fun.  I  could  not  have  been  deceived  about 
the  matter  for  I  was  there  and  could  see  for  myself.  I 
could  not  deny  the  fact,  proven  before  my  eyes,  that  the 
human  family  is  undoubtedly  on  the  toboggan  slide  of 
retrogression,  and  that  children  are  not  what  they  were  a 
generation  before — for  Billy  and  Sam,  Jennie  and  Mollie, 
Kate  and  Jerome  and  n;any  others,  were  absent.  The 
play  was  a  sham  and  a  mockery.  Sorry  for  them,  I  went 
within  the  old  familiar  door  and  ascended  the  winding 
stairs,  down  whose  banisters  I  had  slidden  a  thousand 
times — and  they  were  the  identical  stairs  and  banisters, 
too,  u.sed  in  those  days  instead  of  the  modern  elevator. 
And  do  you  ask  if  the  girls  resorted  to  the  banisters  for 
purposes  of  rapid  transit?  If  so,  please  withdraw  the 
inquiry,  for  some  of  those  very  girls  are  still  living  in 
this  country  and  are  inveterate  readers  of  every  book 
that  is  issued  to  the  public!  I  went  into  the  same  old 
doorway  and  feasted  my  eyes  on  the  old  walls,  windows, 
seats,  ceiling  and  floor,  for  evidently  there  had  been  no 
change.  1  he  pedestal  upon  which  Mr.  Daniels  sat  in  his 
swinging  armchair  remained  intact,  but  it  seemed  less 
high  from  the  floor,  the  room  itself  was  smaller,  and,  in 
fact,  the  entire  building  seemed  to  have  shrunk  percep- 
tibly since  the  days  of  its  youth.  My  stay  was  brief, 
since  the  teachers  had  begun  to  arrive,  and  with  an 
apology  I  withdrew.  Init  I  was  more  or  less  depressed 
all  day  as  a  result  of  my  side-trip  to  the  old  Central,  and 
frequently  T  found  myself  recalling  some  of  the  experi- 
ences there  in  former  times  while  Barnes,  of  Wallowa, 
was  explaining  the  great  importance  of  his  local  road 
appropriation  bill,  or  Glenn  Molman  was  calling  the  roll 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  109 

and  in  thundering  tones  repeating  the  name  of  some 
sleeping  member  for  the  third  time. 

In  later  years  Salem's  population  grew  so  rapidly  that 
it  was  necessary  to  build  modern  and  commodious  school 
buildings.  When  it  had  provided  four  such  in  widely 
separated  parts  of  the  city  the  demand  for  a  high  school 
had  arisen,  and  as  thene  appeared  no  site  so  suitable  for 
this  purpose  as  that  on  which  rested  the  old  Central,  it 
was  selected. 

But,  notwithstanding  the  provision  of  the  larger  build- 
ings, there  was  a  continued  need  for  the  old  standby, 
and  it  was  occupied  for  school  purposes  during  every 
school  day  for  fully  fifty  years — until  it  was  moved  away 
in  1905. 

Oh,  the  dear  old  school  days !  Who  does  not  in  after 
life,  when  he  has  a  few  moments  respite  from  the  multi- 
farious cares  which  attend  the  adult  man,  confronted  by 
the  necessity  of  living,  drift  back  to  the  time  when  he 
had  for  his  playmates  John  and  Fred,  and  Charles  and 
Tom  and  Miles,  when  all  responsibilities  were  resting 
upon  older  shoulders  and  every  prospect  was  pleasing! 
At  this  moment,  when  I  am  recalling  more  vividly  than 
for  many  years  before  the  days  when  school-books  were 
regarded  by  us  as  a  necessary  evil  and  town-ball  or  "three- 
cornered  cat"  the  ideal  of  earthly  happiness,  I  bring  to 
mind  that  first  morning  in  May,  1861,  when,  a  brand- 
newcomer  in  Salem,  my  mother  went  with  me  to  the 
Central  School  and  introduced  me  to  "Teacher."  It  was 
in  the  middle  of  the  spring  term  and  the  other  children 
were  acquainted  with  one  another.  Consequently  I  was 
eyed,  and  regarded,  and  measured  and  sentenced  by  my 
little  fellows — not  to  a  very  hard  experience,  for  we 
soon  became  good  friends,  and  my  new  home,  Salem, 
proved  to  be  a  veritable  earthly  paradise  to  me.  We 
had  moved  there  only  a  few  days  before,  from  Silverton, 
a  village  ten  miles  distant,  and  I  had  never  seen  Salem, 
though  to  do  so  had  been  my  greatest  desire.  I  was  just 
ten  years  old  and  the  opportunities  to  enlarge  the  range 


no  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  my  vision  seemed  boundless.  Everything  was  new, 
and  things  were  doing,  for  the  town  contained  more  than 
a  thousand  people. 

There  was  the  Willamette  Woolen  Mills  in  North 
Salem,  the  first  manufacturing  establishment  of  its  kind 
in  the  entire  Northwest,  and  thither  I  went  when  it  was 
possible  to  get  the  privilege.  There  I  soon  became 
acquainted  with  ]\Ir.  Butts,  a  good  old  soul,  who  had 
charge  of  a  spinning  machine,  which  he  sometimes  made 
me  believe  I  was  running  by  ostensibly  putting  me  in 
charge,  though  he  was  right  at  his  post  to  see  that  noth- 
ing went  wrong.  But  it  served  to  arouse  my  ambition, 
and  in  a  short  time  I  begged  my  parents  to  allow  me  to 
quit  school  and  get  work  in  the  woolen  mills.  With  that 
inborn  shortsightedness  and  narrow  stubbornness  with 
which  the  average  parent  is  endowed,  however,  my  father 
and  mother  failed  to  see  the  advantages  of  the  proposition 
— plain  to  me  as  day — and  I  was  compelled  to  pursue  my 
studies. 

And,  then,  there  was  Nicklin's  sawmill,  located  where 
Mill  Creek  emptied  into  the  Willamette  River — and  where 
it  still  empties  into  the  river,  by  the  w^ay — where  great 
logs  were  being  devoured  by  a  fierce  "up  and  down" 
saw.  It  was  the  first  sawmill  of  any  kind  I  had  ever 
seen,  and,  if  possible,  its  attractions  were  superior  to 
those  of  the  woolen  mill — I  suppose,  as  I  regard  the  cir- 
cumstance after  the  lapse  of  fifty  years,  because  the  saw- 
mill was  destroying  things  right  and  left,  while  the  fac- 
tory was  perfectly  tame  in  its  results.  I  used  to  stand 
for  an  hour  at  a  time  and  admire  the  head  sawyer  as,  by 
the  manipulation  of  a  lever,  he  would  reverse  the  direc- 
tion traveled  by  the  carriage,  and  by  the  rapid  turn  of  a 
couple  of  wheels  shove  the  log  over  and  again  start  the 
carriage  on  its  furious  charge.  I  am  sure  that  saw,  as  I 
remember  it  now,  would  eat  its  way  through  a  log  six- 
teen feet  long  in  five  minutes,  and  I  was  there  and  then 
convinced  that  the  miracles  I  had  been  recently  reading 
about  for  the  first  time  in  my  Sunday-school  class  were 
not  at  all  improbable!     My  school-books  again  became 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  iii 

bare  of  interest  and  I  saw  nothing  in  the  future  so  attrac- 
tive as  the  position  of  head  sawyer  in  a  big  sawmill,  but 
I  hesitated  to  bring  the  subject  to  the  attention  of  my 
obdurate  parents,  and  finally  decided  not  to  do  it. 

These  two  spurts  of  youthful  ambition,  thwarted  in 
their  initial  appearance,  occurred  within  the  first  month 
of  my  attendance  at  the  Central  School  and  the  resultant 
disappointment  would  perhaps  have  made  a  mental  wreck 
of  me,  possibly  have  driven  me  to  drink,  had  it  not  been 
that  one  day  one  of  the  prettiest  little  girls  that  ever  vvore 
a  sunbonnet,  arrayed  in  a  pink  calico  dress — the  pinkness 
has  never  been  equalled  by  her  sisters  who  have  followed 
her — gave  me  at  recess  a  bunch  of  snapdragons.  The 
gift  was  accompanied  by  some  sort  of  little  expression, 
not  verbal,  to  attempt  to  describe  which  would  be  an  utter 
waste  of  time,  but  which  nevertheless  served  to  make  me 
conscious  of  the  grease  and  unpleasant  odor  which  are 
always  found  in  a  wooden  mill,  and  to  emphasize  the 
danger  to  life  and  limb  which  is  unavoidably  connected 
with  the  sawmill  business.  Incidentally,  I  have  for  fifty 
years  been  a  great  and  confessed  lover  of  snapdragons — 
so  much  so  that  they  always  adorn  my  flower  garden  in 
lavish  profusion,  though  the  reason  for  my  preference 
has  never  been  explained  in  detail  to  the  leading  member 
of  my  domestic  household. 

But  from  that  time  forward  the  interest  I  took  in  the 
school  was  unquestioned  in  its  genuineness.  Not  for  any 
consideration  would  I  miss  a  day  in  my  attendance,  and 
when  soon  afterward  I  was  taken  down  with  the  measles, 
my  mother  said  she  never  in  all  her  born  days  saw  a  boy 
so  attached  to  his  books.  I  surely  did  reduce  the  days  of 
absence  from  school  to  the  minimum,  so  anxious  was  I 
to  keep  my  place  in  my  classes ! 

Bearing  this  little  episode  in  mind,  I  am  persuaded 
that  the  claim  of  Christian  Science  that  one  can  dominate 
a  disease  by  letting  one's  thoughts  have  full  sway  in  the 
right  direction  is  not  necessarily  absurd,  after  all, — and 
that  snapdragons  have  curative  properties  which  should 
not  be  overlooked  by  the  medical  fraternity. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

In  common  with  thousands  of  other  men  in  the  Wil- 
lamette valley,  in  the  spring  of  1862  my  father  went  to 
the  Caribou  mines,  in  British  Columbia,  and  did  not 
return  for  a  year  and  a  half.  In  consequence,  at  the  end 
of  the  term  of  school  in  May,  our  family  moved  to  the 
home  of  my  grandfather,  eight  miles  east  of  Salem.  I 
worked  on  his  farm  until  Septeml)er  of  the  next  year, 
when  my  father  returned  to  Salem  temporarily  for  the 
purpose  of  putting  me  into  school  again.  At  this  time  I 
made  an  urgent  appeal  for  the  privilege  of  going  to  the 
Institute.  The  fact  was  that  even  at  that  early  date  there 
was  some  "class," — using  the  word  in  one  of  its  strictly 
modern  phases.— -to  the  Institute,  which  I  discovered 
soon  after  becoming  enlisted  as  a  pupil  at  the  Central. 
Those  who  W'Cre  favored  with  tuition  privileges  at  the 
former  had  socially  a  higher  prestige  and  there  was  an 
atmosphere — intangible,  but  very  distinctly  felt,  neverthe- 
less— that  made  a  marked  distinction  between  the  pupils 
attending  the  two  schools.  There  w^as  not  a  child  attend- 
ing the  Central  w^ho  didn't  entertain  high  hopes  that  he 
might  at  some  time  be  transferred  to  the  In^-titute;  so 
it  was  with  unalloyed  delight  that  I  was  told  by  my 
father  when  he  returned  that,  if  it  were  possible  to  find 
some  place  where  I  could  work  for  my  board,  he  would 
pay  for  my  attendance  there.  And  it  was  so  arranged, 
he  returning  to  the  mines  at  Canyon  City  immediately 
afterward. 

At  the  opening  of  the  fall  term  at  the  Institute  in  Sep- 
tember, 1863,  Thomas  M.  Gatch  was  president  of  the 
Faculty.  The  other  members  were  Professor  L.  J. 
Powell.  Professc^r  \\  H.  Grubbs,  Miss  Lucy  Anna  Lee, 
and  Miss  Cornell,  the  last  two  conducting  the  primary 
departments.     I  was  found  competent  to  enter  the  Aca- 

112 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  113 

demic  Department  under  the  tuition  of  Professor  Grubbs, 
having  for  a  seatmate  John  Minto,  a  son  of  the  well- 
known  pioneer  of  1844,  who  has  since  filled  many  posi- 
tions of  trust  of  a  public  nature  in  Oregon.  He  was  for 
four  years  sheriff  of  Marion  County,  chief  of  police  in 
Portland  for  a  term,  passed  several  years  in  the  United 
States  Internal  Revenue  service  and  not  long  since  com- 
pleted a  five-years'  term  as  postmaster  in  Portland. 

Professor  Grubbs  was  a  new  "hand"  at  teaching, 
though,  as  I  remember  it  now,  I  had  no  conception  of  the 
fact  at  the  time.  The  son  of  a  pioneer  of  1852,  he  had 
by  dint  of  persistent  industry  and  personal  deprivation 
of  many  of  the  comforts  of  life  literally  worked  his  way 
through  college  and  won  his  graduation  diploma.  Of 
course  I  knew  nothing  of  all  this  at  the  time.  A  school- 
boy seldom  knows  or  cares  anything  about  the  ante- 
cedents of  his  teacher,  or  whether  he  has  any.  After  I 
left  the  University  in  1865  I  did  not  see  Professor  Grubbs 
for  thirty-five  years,  but  when  we  met  in  the  Governor's 
office  in  the  Capitol,  whither  he  had  gone  to  pay  his 
respects  to  a  former  pupil,  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  as 
he  recalled  bygone  days.  After  we  had  exchanged  greet- 
ings and  had  rapidly  indulged  in  many  reminiscences,  he 
suddenly  said : 

"Well,  in  the  old  Willamette  days,  when  my  room  was 
full  of  sturdy  boys,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  would  have 
picked  you  out  to  be  a  future  Governor  of  Oregon,  had 
I  been  assured  that  such  an  honor  was  in  store  for  one 
among  that  lot." 

"Why,  of  course  not."  I  replied.  "You  must  remem- 
ber how  very  modest  and  unassuming  I  was  then — being 
endowed  with  all  the  characteristics  which  are  noticeably 
absent  in  the  average  successful  politician.  I  suppose, 
then,  that  you  recall  me  as  a  sort  of  model  boy?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  that,"  he  replied,"  you  simply  didn't  look 
it.  But  you  can't  always  bank  on  appearances.  I  re- 
member that  my  father,  who  was  a  farmer,  used  to  say, 
'Well,  sir,  you  can't  ever  tell  what  a  lousy  calf  will  come 
to  be.'" 


114  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

In  return  for  this  sally  I  at  once  offered  to  appoint  him 
to  any  ofiice  within  my  gift  that  in  my  judgment  he  was 
qualified  to  fill,  and  requested  my  secretary  to  get  a  blank 
notary  public  commission.  But  the  Professor  quickly 
said  he  was  "not  in  politics,"  so  the  matter  was  dropped 
at  that  point. 

When  he  rose  to  take  his  departure,  he  said : 

"Say,  it  looks  good  to  see  you  here — seems  as  if  I  had 
a  sort  o'  proprietary  interest  in  you  and  something  to 
do  with  your  getting  here." 

I  assured  him  that  I  entertained  a  similar  feeling  as 
to  his  share  in  laying  the  foundation  of  such  success  as  I 
had  achieved,  and  that  if  he  found  our  meeting  delightful 
after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  it  was  equally  so  to  me. 
Our  interview  was  a  treat  for  us  both — for  thirty-five 
years  is  a  long  break  between  teacher  and  pupil,  though 
not  infrequent. 

Professor  Grubbs  was  a  very  affable  man  but,  withal, 
had  a  quick  temper;  it  was  usually  well  under  control. 
however.  In  the  class-room  he  instituted  what  he  called 
"object  lessons" — short  instructions  in  matters  not  con- 
tained in  the  text-books.  For  this  purpose  he  would 
occasionally  dismiss  the  school  twenty  minutes  before  the 
usual  time,  requesting  a  dozen  of  the  older  boys  to  remain 
to  receive  the  benefit  of  the  extra  lesson.  At  the  par- 
ticular time  of  which  I  speak  he  was  giving  some  demon- 
strations in  chemistry  to  a  class  of  boys  who  had  never 
studied  that  branch,  and  with  some  apparatus  was  show- 
ing some  very  marvelous  results  produced  by  certain  com- 
binations of  fluids.  He  was  explaining  that  he  was  about 
to  make  a  combination  of  chemicals  by  which  he  could 
actually  set  water  on  fire. 

"Now,"  said  he,  as  he  stood  with  match  ready  to 
scratch  on  the  edge  of  his  desk,  "did  any  of  you  boys 
ever  see  water  burn?" 

Without  any  hesitation  at  all,  Egbert  Brown,  a  boy 
whose  real  brightness  was  perceptibly  dimmed  by  the 
slight  provocation  upon  which  he  was  ready  to  display  it, 
said : 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  115 

"Yes,  sir.  This  morning  I  stuck  my  hand  in  a  pan 
of  hot  water  and  it  burnt  one  o^  my  fingers  so  that  it 
hurts  yet!" 

This  unexpected  and  really  witty  reply  caused  a  burst 
of  laughter  from  the  entire  class,  but  the  Professor 
missed  the  point  of  the  joke  altogether.  His  face  flushed, 
and  after  the  demonstration  was  completed,  he  dismissed 
the  boys,  with  one  exception — the  exception  being  re- 
quested to  remain  in  for  a  few  minutes,  which  he  did. 
Just  what  happened  during  the  interview  we  never  knew, 
though  Egbert's  demeanor  afterward  pointed  to  a  pos- 
sible armistice  whose  chief  concessions  came  from  his 
side  of  the  house. 

The  last  term  I  attended  the  University  I  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  room  over  which  L.  J.  Powell  presided. 
Professor  Powell  was  a  big  man,  both  physically  and 
mentally,  with  a  head  which  appeared  even  larger  than 
is  usual  for  a  man  of  his  proportions.  He  was  rather 
heavy,  too,  in  his  method  of  procedure,  but  an  instructor 
whose  qualifications  were  of  the  best. 

In  my  class  in  this  last  department  were  a  dozen  boys 
who  were  as  fully  surcharged  with  the  spirit  of  mischief 
as  could  be  found  in  a  seven  days'  journey.  Nothing 
could  have  produced  greater  results  in  this  direction 
except  more  boys.  There  was  Tom  Nicklin.  afterward 
a  prominent  dentist  in  Portland,  who  died  several  years 
ago ;  Miles  Miller,  who  for  many  years  was  a  banker  in 
eastern  Washington,  of  whom  I  have  not  heard  in  recent 
years;  Fred  Schwatka,  who  graduated  from  West  Point 
and  afterward  made  a  good  reputation  as  a  successful 
Arctic  explorer,  but  who  died  some  twenty  years  ago; 
Charles  B.  Moores.  the  irrepressible  wit  and  excellent 
writer,  graduate  of  Ann  Arbor,  and  Speaker  of  the 
Oregon  House  of  Representatives  in  1895,  who  declined 
an  election  to  Congress,  now  a  successful  business  man 
in  Portland ;  Emmet  Williams,  who  for  many  years  has 
been  a  prominent  lawyer  in  Portland;  P.  H.  D'Arcy,  a 
successful  attorney  and  business  man  whose  home  has 
been  in  Salem  for  more  years  than  anybody  can  remem- 


ii6  FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON 

ber,  and  who  is  now  the  president  of  the  State  Historical 
Society — and  several  others  whose  names  I  shall  not 
mention  out  of  consideration  for  their  retiring  disposi- 
tions. 

One  day  when  Professor  Powell  was  hearing  the  class 
in  anatomy,  he  was  describing  the  manner  in  which  the 
muscles  of  the  scalp  perform  their  several  functions.  He 
was  holding  a  sure-enough  skull  in  his  hands  and  was 
very  carefully  illustrating  the  marvelous  construction  of 
said  muscles  in  their  relation  to  the  connecting  ligaments. 
To  make  the  subject  clearer,  he  told  the  members  of  the 
class  to  move  their  scalps  by  the  aid  of  the  muscles,  with- 
out moving  the  head,  and  he  proceeded  to  lead  the  way 
by  giving  a  personal  demonstration.  He  had  a  shaggy 
head  of  hair,  always  uncombed,  each  individual  hair 
standing  on  end,  and  he  could  turn  his  scalp  almost  half- 
way around  his  head.  The  success  which  attended  his 
maiden  effort  before  the  class  was  so  astonishingly  com- 
plete that  it  brought  forth  a  roar  of  laughter  in  which 
the  Professor  heartily  joined — though  it  was  a  ghastly 
smile,  since  his  mouth  was  where  his  right  eye  usually  was 
and  his  ears  were  under  his  chin. 

When  order  was  finally  restored,  or  partially  so,  for  the 
Professor's  exhibition  continued  to  entertain  the  class 
during  the  remainder  of  the  recitation,  he  requested  the 
boys  to  see  what  they  could  do  in  the  same  line.  Each 
one  tried  it.  with  varying  degrees  of  success,  but  Tom 
Nicklin's  effort  was  a  hopeless  failure.  It  was  the  only 
thing  I  ever  knew  him  to  undertake  in  which  he  did  not 
succeed ;  but  his  failure,  as  he  made  superhuman  efforts 
to  move  his  scalp,  was  as  superlatively  laughable  as  Pro- 
fessor Powell's  grotesque  success  had  been.  Finally, 
after  the  poor  fellow  had  made  all  the  oblique  grimaces 
the  class  could  endure,  the  Professor  said : 

"Thomas,  what  is  the  matter  with  your  head?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  Thomas,  "unless  I  am  the 
only  one  in  the  room  whose  head  is  so  full  of  brains  that 
they  crowd  his  scalp." 

And  this  sally  abruptly  ended  the  recitation  in  anatomy, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  117 

with  everybody,  Professor  Powell  included,  enjoying  the 
wholesome  fun. 

During  those  really  "halcyon  days"  at  the  University  I 
saw  every  day  Miss  Lucy  Anna  Lee,  who  had  charge  of 
the  primary  department.  At  that  time  I  had  never  heard 
of  Jason  Lee,  or  if  I  had,  so  short  a  time  had  elapsed 
since  his  activities  in  Oregon  that  I  did  not  appreciate 
who  he  was  or  what  he  had  done.  The  fact  is,  I  believe 
most  of  us  knew  nothing  about  him,  though  he  was  the 
founder  of  the  school  and  had  many  times  been  in  that 
very  building.  So  it  was  not  until  after  years  that  I 
understood  the  fine  lineage  of  Lucy  Ann  Lee,  but  I  easily 
recall  that  she  was  a  tall,  pale  young  woman  whose  face 
habitually  bore  a  sad  expression.  It  seems  to  me  now 
that  she  usually  wore  a  loose  white  shawl  around  her 
shoulders,  as  if  chilly,  and  that  her  manner  was  so  very 
kind  that  it  excited  one's  wonder  as  to  the  occasion  for 
it.  It  was  unnatural  in  a  world  where  nearly  every  act 
was  prompted  by  motives  more  or  less  selfish  and  where 
in  the  ceaseless  struggle  for  place  every  person  one  met 
was  a  competitor,  and  therefore  in  that  sense  an  enemy. 
But  Lucy  Anna  Lee  was  not  an  enemy  to  any  mortal ; 
on  the  contrary  she  was  a  positive  inspiration  in  a  time 
of  difficulty — and  at  other  times.  I  have  often  wished  in 
subsequent  years  that  I  had  known,  at  the  time,  she  was 
the  daughter  of  such  a  purposeful  man  as  was  Jason  Lee. 
Surely  pre-natal  influences  were  in  evidence  in  her  tem- 
perament, manner  and  thought.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Jason  Lee's  second  wife,  Lucy  Thomson,  and  was 
named  after  her  mother  and  Lee's  first  wife,  Anna  Maria 
Pitman.  Upon  the  death  of  her  mother  she  was  taken  by 
Rev.  Gustavus  Hines  and  wife  and  given  the  same  care 
they  would  have  bestowed  upon  one  of  their  own.  Lee 
went  to  his  old  home  in  Canada  in  1844.  when  the  child 
was  two  years  of  age,  and,  as  has  been  stated,  died  there 
the  following  year.  Twenty  days  before  his  death,  he 
wrote  the  following  pathetic  letter,  received  long  after 
his  passing  away  was  known  in  Oregon : 


ii8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Stanstead,  Canada,  Feb.  8,  1845. 
My  Df.ar  Brother  and  Sister  Hines: 

I  have  written  you  twice  since  I  reached  this  coun- 
try, once  by  Mexico  and  once  by  Panama.  I  have 
heard  nothing  from  you  since  I  left  you  in  Oahu.  I 
have  seen  a  notice  in  the  Advocate  that  Brother  Gary 
had  arrivel  and,  that  the  missionaries  are  all  well.  I 
inferred  that  you  and  all  reached  Oregon  in  safety 
and  were  in  good  health.  I  suppose  you  wrote  by 
the  same  conveyance  that  Brother  Gary  wrote,  for  I 
just  received  news  that  there  are  letters  for  me  in 
New  York.  I  think  I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter 
that  I  was  afflicted  with  a  severe  cold  and  that  no 
medical  aid  I  could  secure  has  been  able  to  remove  it. 
I  have  suflfered  severely  from  pain  and  am  so  reduced 
that  I  have  been  confined  to  my  bed  for  several  weeks, 
and  unless  some  favorable  change  occurs  soon  it  is 
my  deliberate  opinion  that  it  will  prove  fatal. 

If  I  should  continue  to  fail,  I  think  I  shall  appoint 
an  executor  here  and  in  New  York.  These,  I  suppose, 
will  do  all  the  business  so  that  you  can  draw  what- 
ever money  there  may  be  in  New  York  without  any 
trouble.  There  will  be  an  opportunity  by  the  express 
to  write  you.  Some  favorable  change  may  take  place, 
and  I  may  be  advising  you  to  be  looking  for  me  coming 
around  Cape  Horn  or  threading  my  way  up  the  Wil- 
lamette, as  I  used  to  do.  But  if  I  should  never  make 
my  appearance,  what  shall  I  say  concerning  the  dear 
little  one?  Let  her  have,  if  possible,  a  first-rate  edu- 
cation. But,  above  all,  do  not  neglect  her  religious 
education.  My  dear  brother  and  sister,  I  must  hold 
you  responsible  under  God  to  train  that  child  for 
heaven. 

I  remain  your  afTectionate  friend  and  brother, 

Jason  Lee. 

In  July,  1864.  when  twenty-two  years  of  age,  Miss 
Lee  became  the  wife  of  Professor  Grubbs,  both  having 
graduated  from  the  University  on  July  13,  1863.  They 
continued  in  the  teaching  profession  for  several  years  in 
various  parts  of  the  State  until  failing  health  compelled 
Mrs.  Grubbs  to  abandon  her  chosen  vocation.     She  died 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  119 

April  25,  1881,  leaving  a  little  daughter  now  living  in 
Portland.  Soon  after  becoming  a  widower  Professor 
Grubbs  established  a  printing  business  in  Portland  which 
he  followed  until  his  death,  which  occurred  a  month  ago. 

****** 

One  of  the  thrilling  events  connected  with  the  earlier 
history  of  Oregon  was  the  great  flood  of  December,  1861, 
well  remembered  by  all  the  older  inhabitants.  It  was 
altogether  unprecedented  both  as  to  the  height  of  the 
Willamette  River  and  the  time  of  year  in  which  it 
occurred.  Usually  the  rivers  and  smaller  streams  reach 
their  highest  stages  in  the  spring,  when  late  rains  com- 
bine with  the  melting  snows  to  produce  disastrous  results, 
but  this  flood  was  caused  by  a  protracted  "wet  spell" 
during  the  first  week  of  December. 

We  had  been  living  in  Salem  little  more  than  six 
months  and  had  moved  into  our  new  house  on  Commer- 
cial Street,  within  one  block  of  South  Mill  Creek.  In 
the  first  week  of  December  the  river  had  risen  so  rapidly 
because  of  the  enormous  downpour  that  there  was  much 
alarm  as  to  the  outcome.  All  business  was  suspended 
and  the  people  spent  most  of  their  time  on  the  banks  of 
the  river  watching  its  progress  toward  the  high  water 
mark  limit.  It  had  covered  the  lowlands  just  west  of 
town,  had  swept  away  the  big  steam  sawmill  owned  by 
B.  M.  Du  Relle,  and  was  still  rising  rapidly.  It  was  fulF 
of  driftwood,  interspersed  with  small  barns,  rails  and 
other  evidences  of  damage  done  to  farms.  One  man 
was  seen  going  down  the  river  on  what  seemed  to  be  a 
huge  barn  door. 

One  morning  at  four  o'clock  a  night  watchman  rapped 
at  our  front  door  and  warned  us  that  we  would  have  to 
vacate  the  house,  as  the  water  was  within  a  foot  of  the 
big  bridge  which  crossed  the  creek  and  still  rising  very 
rapidly.  We  at  once  arose  and  hurriedly  crossed  the 
bridge,  against  the  floor  of  which  the  water  was  flapping. 
We  sought  refuge,  I  remember,  in  the  home  of  Ben 
Strang,  who  lived  just  across  the  creek,  and  remained 
there  until  the  water  subsided  two  days  later. 


I20  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  hero  of  that  flood  was  Captain  George  A.  Pease, 
who  took  the  steamboat  Onzvard  from  Canemah  to  Salem 
(luring  the  highest  stage  of  the  waters  solely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  saving  the  lives  of  those  who  were  endangered. 
It  was  a  most  perilous  journey,  but  he  was  an  unusually 
skillful  navigator  and  wliolly  without  fear.  The  river 
was  filled  with  sawlogs,  thousands  of  fir  trees,  many  of 
them  two  hundred  feet  in  length,  houses  and  barns,  which 
occasionally  contained  men  and  women,  as  well  as  horses 
and  other  stock. 

The  headlines  in  the  lVcckl\  Orcgonian  of  December 
14,  1861,  were  in  part  as  follows  : 

Flood  Highest  at  Salem  Ever  Known  By  Whites — 
Du  Relle's  Sawmill  and  Matheny's  Wharf  Carried 
Away — A  Family  Saved  Going  Down  on  a  Raft — 
People  Saved  from  Trees,  Rafts  and  Buildings — Gal- 
lant Conduct  of  Captain  Pease  of  the  Onward — 
Warehouse  at  Wheatland  Containing  7000  Bushels  of 
Wheat  Carried  Away — Desolation  and  Ruin  on  the 
River — Orleans,  Opposite  Corvallis,  Entirely  Swept 
Away. 

The  Orcgonian  of  that  date,  December  14,  says:  "We 
have  the  Salem  Statesman  of  the  5th  inst.,  brought  down 
by  Tracey's  Express  by  O.  A.  Brown,  who  went  up  for 
that  purpose."  All  old-timers  well  remember  O.  A.  (One 
Armed)  Brown,  and  it  was  entirely  characteristic  of  him 
that  he  should  have  made  that  trip. 

The  Orcgonian  further  recites  how  "on  Tuesday  a 
shouting  was  heard  across  the  river  (this  was  from  the 
Salem  Statesman).  Two  boats  were  sent  over  and  twelve 
persons  were  saved  from  a  barn.  Two  young  men,  Elias 
Peasely  and  William  Farrell.  went  to  relieve  Mr.  Chit- 
wood's  family,  but  their  boat  was  broken  against  a  tree, 
which  they  climbed,  and  they  were  saved  by  the  Onzvard. 
Two  of  the  younger  Chitwood  boys  were  drowned." 

Since  the  Columbia  was  not  unusually  high,  the  flood 
did  not  work  so  much  datnage  at  Portland  as  at  Oregon 
City,  Salem  and  other  points  to  the  south.     I  remember 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  121 

seeing  the  Omvard  as  it  arrived  after  its  perilous  trip  to 
be  welcomed  by  the  entire  population  of  Salem,  together 
with  that  of  a  large  part  of  the  surrounding  country.  It 
made  fast  where  the  Willamette  Hotel  now  stands,  on 
Commercial  Street,  and  carried  as  passengers  forty  people 
who  had  been  rescued  from  the  tops  of  trees  and  from 
houses  and  barns,  either  surrounded  by  water  or  actually 
afloat  .and  drifting  down  the  river.  In  Salem  the  water 
reached  the  corner  of  the  court-house  grounds  and  skiffs 
were  in  use  in  many  parts  of  the  city. 

This  freak  in  the  weather  in  early  December,  1861, 
which  has  not  been  repeated  in  the  fifty  years  ensuing, 
has  constituted  an  event  in  the  history  of  Oregon  by 
which  comparisons  are  made.  The  old  people  reckon  the 
births,  marriages  and  deaths  of  their  acquaintances  by 
the  occurrence  having  taken  place  so  many  years  before 
or  after  the  Big  Flood. 

Captain  Pease,  who  did  such  valiant  work  on  that  oc- 
casion, at  the  risk  of  the  destruction  of  the  Onward 
and  the  loss  of  his  own  life  as  well  as  that  of  his  brave 
crew,  still  lives  in  Portland  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty- 
two  years.  His  general  worth  as  a  man  has  won  the 
esteem  of  all  the  people  of  Oregon. 

SJC  5jl  Jfc  ;[€  >jC  JJC 

Perhaps  no  murder  trial  which  has  ever  been  con- 
ducted in  Oregon  received  wider  attention  from  the 
people  than  that  of  Beale  and  Baker,  in  Salem,  in  March, 
1865. 

On  January  9  Daniel  Delaney,  an  old  farmer  living 
six  miles  south  of  Salem,  had  been  called  from  his  house 
at  dusk,  shot  and  killed,  and  his  house  robbed  of  a 
large  sum  of  money.  Delaney  had  lived  alone  for  some 
time,  save  for  a  negro  boy  twelve  years  of  age,  who 
as  soon  as  he  recovered  from  his  fright  alarmed  the 
neighbors.  The  news  spread  rapidly  and  the  greatest 
excitement  prevailed  everywhere,  for  Delaney  was  one 
of  the  best  known  of  the  early  pioneers. 

Suspicion  soon  pointed  its  finger  to  George  Beale,  a 
prominent   saloon-keeper   of    Salem,    who   had   worked 


122  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

several  years  for  Delaney  on  his  farm  and  who  had  fre- 
quently discussed  with  his  friends  his  belief  that  Delaney 
had  large  sums  of  money  hidden  about  his  house.  He 
had  said  that  he  believed  he  knew  where  it  was,  and 
had  predicted  somebody  would  murder  the  old  man  for 
his  money — that  it  could  be  easily  done  without  danger 
of  the  perpetrator  being  discovered,  etc.  Naturally  these 
conversations  were  recalled  by  those  who  had  heard  them, 
as  they  discusseil  the  appalling  tragedy.  Investigation 
also  disclosed  the  fact  that  Beale  was  away  from  home 
on  the  night  of  the  murder  and  had  staid  all  night  at 
the  farm  of  William  Taylor,  an  uncle  of  his  wife,  on 
the  night  before  that.  Other  circumstances  strengthened 
the  suspicion  and  within  a  few  days  he  was  arrested, 
accused  of  the  murder.  With  him  was  arrested  a  man 
named  Baker,  a  butcher,  and  the  two  were  charged  by 
the  grand  jury  with  murder  in  the  first  degree. 

Beale  was  a  prominent  Mason  and  had  good  standing 
with  the  business  men  of  Salem.  He  kept  a  saloon,  to 
be  sure,  but  his  character  as  a  man  of  integrity  had 
not  been  questioned  and  his  arrest  caused  general  sur- 
prise. 

The  trial  began  on  March  20  and  was  one  of  the 
most  notable  in  the  history  of  our  State  courts.  The 
accused  men  were  prosecuted  by  Williams  and  Mallory 
and  were  defended  by  David  Logan,  assisted  by  Caton 
and  Curl,  of  Salem.  Rufus  Mallory,  one  of  his  prose- 
cutors, was  elected  to  Congress  the  next  year,  and 
Richard  Williams,  his  partner,  was  given  the  same 
honor  eleven  years  later.  David  Logan,  one  of  the  best 
criminal  law^yers  in  the  State,  was  ably  assisted  by  the 
local  firm.  Reuben  P.  Boise,  who  continued  in  the 
judicial  service  of  the  State  for  forty  years  afterwards, 
and  who  had  then  been  on  the  bench  for  ten  years, 
presided. 

It  was  a  forensic  battle  among  the  "higher-ups"  that 
will  long  be  referred  to  by  the  State  lawyers  as  one  that 
put  the  contestants  on  their  mettle  and  made  lasting 
reputations  for  those  who  participated.     It  was  a  case 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  123 

purely  of  circumstantial  evidence,  but  incidents  fitted  in 
so  closely  that  the  evidence  was  regarded  as  completely 
and  conclusively  proving  the  guilt  of  the  accused  men. 
After  a  trial  lasting  one  week,  the  jurors  found  a  verdict 
without  delay. 

When  Judge  Boise  read  the  verdict  he  requested  Beale 
to  stand  up.  and  asked  him  if  there  was  any  reason  why 
he  should  not  be  sentenced.     Beale  said : 

"I  don't  know  that  there  is.  I  don't  think  I  have  a 
friend  in  the  community.  There  has  been  false  swearing 
against  me  here  in  this  court.  Everybody  seems  to  think 
I  ought  to  die  and  I  suppose  I  must  be  hung  to  satisfy 
them.  I  hope  everybody  here  is  as  ready  to  die  as  I 
am.  I  expect  soon  to  meet  old  man  Delaney  in  the  other 
world  and  will  say  to  him,  'Delaney,  it  was  not  me  who 
killed  you.'  I  knew  the  old  man  well  in  this  world 
and  always  was  a  friend  to  him.  I  am  an  innocent 
man.  Give  me  time,  Judge  Boise,  and  I  can  prove  my 
innocence — I  know  I  can." 

When  he  resumed  his  seat.  Judge  Boise  said : 

"The  court  does  not  see  how  the  jury  could  come  to 
any  other  conclusion  than  it  did.  The  accused  did  not 
attempt  to  show  their  whereabouts  and  the  jury  was 
warranted  in  their  conclusion.  A  man  who  will  steal  will 
lie  about  it,  and  a  man  who  will  murder  will  lie  about 
it.  They  always  declare  themselves  innocent.  I  never 
knew  it  to  fail.  There  remains  no  doubt  that  Daniel 
Delaney  died  at  your  hands.  There  is  no  hope  for  you 
to  escape  and  it  only  remains  for  you  to  prepare  for 
death.  I  advise  you  so  to  prepare,  and  that  you  confess 
and  make  some  restitution  to  Delaney's  heirs.  The  old 
man's  money  was  sweat  for  and  hoarded  up  for  them. 
Let  it  be  your  last  act  to  restore  it." 

Beale  and  Baker  were  hanged  in  Salem  on  May  17, 
on  a  public  square,  in  the  presence  of  at  least  one  thou- 
sand spectators.  Persons  came  from  the  surrounding 
counties — whole  families  eating  their  luncheons  in  their 
wagons,  having  tied  their  teams  near  by,  in  order  that 
none  of  the  details  might  be  missed. 


124  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

As  I  have  already  narrated,  I  was  living  with  Beale's 
family  at  the  time  he  committed  this  murder,  and,  as 
the  occurrence  broke  up  his  household,  my  school-days 
were  permanently  terminated.  This  circumstance  of  my 
association  with  Beale  did  not  deter  me  from  the  desire 
to  see  him  hanged — must  I  confess  it?  It  may  have 
been  the  reason  I  harbored  the  desire.  At  any  rate,  I 
w'alked  to  Salem,  a  distance  of  seven  miles,  carried  a 
luncheon  with  me  prepared  by  my  grandmother — having 
not  a  cent  of  money — and  was  so  fortunate  (?)  as  to 
get  a  good  position  near  the  scaffold.  I  remember  seeing 
the  two  men  walk  up  the  steps  to  the  platform,  with  their 
guards,  and  closely  watched  them  as  the  black  cap  was 
drawn  down  over  their  faces.  At  this  moment  I  recall 
distinctly  the  shudder  that  went  over  my  body  when 
this  was  done,  as  it  caused  me  to  realize  the  awful  feeling 
they  must  have  experienced  as  that  cap  cut  off  their 
vision  of  this  world  forever.  For  a  moment  I  felt  an 
intense  revulsion  against  the  w^hole  proceeding,  or  rather 
against  being  a  part  of  the  crowd  that  had  assembled 
to  witness  it,  but  I  soon  recovered,  as  a  woman  imme- 
diately behind  me  fainted  and  was  carried  from  the 
grounds. 

Sam  Headrick  was  the  sheriff,  and  I  remember  that 
when  the  trap  was  sprung  and  the  men  shot  downward 
to  the  end  of  the  rope  he  dropped  to  his  knees  in  prayer 
for  a  moment,  as  if  to  ask  for  forgiveness  for  the  per- 
formance of  his  distressing  official  duty. 

A  few  days  before  their  execution  Beale  and  Baker 
made  a  full  confession  of  the  murder.  Their  intention, 
they  declared,  was  merely  to  rob  Delaney.  They  planned 
to  call  him  out,  as  they  did.  and  Baker  was  then  to  cover 
him  with  his  gun  while  Beale  was  to  ransack  the  house 
and  get  the  money.  But  when  Baker  pointed  his  gun 
toward  the  old  man,  Beale,  fearing  he  might  shoot,  since 
he  had  been  drinking  quite  heavily,  shouted,  "Don't 
shoot!"  At  once  Baker  fired  his  gun  and  Delaney  fell 
dead.    He  afterward  said  he  thought  Beale  said  "Shoot !" 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  125 

seeing  perhaps  some  clanger  which  he  did  not,  and  obeyed 
what  he  thought  was  an  order. 

It  would  be  a  difficult  matter  to  find  to-day  a  man  in 
Marion,  Linn  or  Polk  Counties,  who  was  living  in  them  in 
1865,  who  was  not  present  at  the  hanging  of  Beale  and 
Baker.  Most  of  them  at  the  time  said  they  "had  business 
in  Salem  that  day,  anyway,"  and,  being  there,  attended  the 
"hanging."  That  people  would  not  flock  to  see  such  a 
gruesome  sight  to-day.  if  the  opportunity  offered,  is  an 
evidence  that  some  progress  has  been  made  along  certain 
lines — or  would  they? 


CHAPTER  XVII 

By  common  consent  Thomas  M.  Gatch  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  Hst  of  men  who  have  devoted  their  hves  to 
the  upbuilding  of  the  cause  of  education  in  Oregon.  This 
estimate  of  him  will,  I  am  sure,  be  endorsed  without 
exception  by  all  his  co-workers  in  this  State  during  the 
past  half-century.  He  came  here  in  i860,  after  spend- 
ing a  short  time  in  the  California  mines  and  occupying 
the  chair  of  mathematics  in  the  University  of  the  Pacific 
at  Santa  Clara,  to  become  professor  of  Greek  and  Latin 
in  the  Willamette  University.  The  next  year  he  was 
chosen  president  of  that  institution  to  fill  a  vacancy,  and 
held  that  position  until  1865,  when  he  resigned  to  return 
to  California.  A  few  years  later,  however,  he  returned  to 
Oregon  and  served  as  president  of  the  Portland  Academy 
until  1870,  when  he  was  again  elected  to  the  presidency 
of  "Old  Willamette."  After  another  incumbency  of  nine 
years,  he  resigned  to  accept  a  position  at  the  State  Uni- 
versity at  Eugene,  after  which  he  was  elected  principal 
of  the  Wasco  Academy  at  The  Dalles.  He  subsequently 
moved  to  Seattle,  where  he  became  president  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Washington,  which  post  he  held  for  ten  years. 

In  i8q6  Professor  Gatch  was  elected  president  of  the 
Oregon  State  Agricultural  College  at  Corvallis.  which 
latter  position  he  filled  with  marked  ability  until  his  ad- 
vancing years  suggested  that  he  permanently  rest  from 
his  long  service  in  the  cause  of  education,  which  had 
covered  fifty  years  of  his  life  and  a  field  co-extensive 
with  the  three  Pacific  Coast  States. 

Thomas  M.  Gatch  was  born  in  Clermont  County, 
Ohio,  January  28,  1833.  His  grandfather,  Philip  Gatch, 
of  Prussian  extraction,  was  one  of  the  first  three  min- 
isters ordained  in  America  in  the  Methodist  Church. 
He  was  a  chaplain  in  the  Revolutionary  War  and  served 

126 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  127 

under  Washington,  afterwards  moving  to  Ohio,  where 
he  became  a  member  of  the  first  constitutional  convention 
of  that  State. 

The  father  of  Professor  Gatch  was  a  prominent  man 
in  Ohio,  an  officer  in  its  mihtia,  and  had  served  several 
terms  in  the  State  Legislature,  which,  it  is  sincerely 
hoped,  was  more  of  a  badge  of  respectability  and  honor 
than  it  has  been  in  that  State  in  recent  years,  notably 
the  present  one. 

One  of  the  first  men  I  met  upon  entering  the  Insti- 
tute was  Professor  Gatch,  who  kindly  asked  me  my 
name  and  where  I  had  attended  school  before.  I  espec- 
ially recall  his  kindly  manner,  for,  finding  myself  actually 
a  pupil  in  the  building  toward  which  I  had  been  longingly 
gazing  for  a  couple  of  years,  while  realizing  how  im- 
probable it  was  that  my  ambition  to  attend  it  would  ever 
be  attained,  I  felt  some  misgiving  as  to  the  outcome  of 
the  wild  adventure.  I  had  the  impression  that  all  the 
other  boys  and  girls  had  always  been  pupils  there,  as 
they  appeared  to  know  one  another  and  to  be  engaged 
in  lively  banterings  and  greetings,  while  I  was  a  lone 
pilgrim  without  a  friend  or  acquaintance.  I  am  sure 
now,  as  I  look  back  to  that  first  hour  at  the  Institute, 
that  I  regretted  I  had  not,  after  all.  returned  to  the  old 
Central. 

But  this  feeling  did  not  last  long.  I  soon  became  im- 
pressed with  the  fact,  or  what  appeared  to  be  a  fact, 
that  the  superiority  which  had  been  generally  conceded 
to  the  Institute  students  was  wholly  imaginary,  and  that 
Tom  and  Fred  and  Charlie  were  not  different  in  their 
outward,  or  other,  make-up  from  Bill  and  Jerome  and 

I  had  precisely  the  same  feeling  after  the  first  week 
that  United  States  Senator  Nesmith  experienced  upon 
entering,  as  a  member,  the  upper  house  of  Congress. 
Nesmith  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  Oregon  pioneers, 
coming  here  in  1843,  when  a  young  man.  from  Maine, 
where  he  had  been  born  and  reared.  A  man  of  great 
natural  ability  and  force,  he  took  an  active  interest  in 


128  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

affairs  in  the  new  country  at  once,  and  being  very  com- 
panionable in  his  manner  and  the  very  best  story-teller 
Oregon  has  ever  known,  became  a  general   favorite. 

In  i860,  after  a  protracted  contest  in  the  State  Legisla- 
ture over  the  election  of  two  United  States  Senators,  a 
compromise  was  effected  between  the  Repul)lican  and 
Union  Democratic  members  by  the  election  of  Nesmith, 
a  "war  Democrat."  and  Colonel  Edward  D.  Baker,  a 
Republican.  Nesmith  had  been  several  times  a  member 
of  the  territorial  Legislature.  Superintendent  of  Indian 
Affairs  and  a  colonel  in  the  Indian  w-ars.  but  he  was  a 
large  landowner  in  Polk  County,  and  farming  had  always 
been  his  vocation.  His  home  was  at  "Dixie."  a  country 
post-office,  but  he  was  for  much  of  the  time  in  the 
public  service  in  some  capacity.  Upon  the  approach 
of  the  Civil  War,  how^ever,  he  broke  with  his  political 
associates  who  sympathized  w'ith  the  South  and  sup- 
ported Breckinridge  for  President,  and  with  most  of 
the  Douglas  Democrats  openly  supported  the  cause  of  the 
Union.  In  the  Senatorial  contest  referred  to  the  Breck- 
inridge Democrats  insisted  upon  the  election  of  Delazon 
Smith  as  one  of  the  Senators,  but  the  Douglas  men  w^ould 
not  accept  him  under  any  circumstances,  and  finally  made 
a  combination  with  the  Repu]:)licans  which  resulted  in  the 
election  of  Nesmith  and  Colonel  Baker. 

Nesmith  became  a  Senator  March  4.  1861.  Upon  his 
return  home  the  next  fall,  while  entertaining  a  few  old 
friends  in  Salem  with  a  narration  of  some  of  his  ex- 
periences, in  answer  to  an  inquiry  how  it  felt  to  be  a 
United  States  Senator,  he  said : 

"Well,  I  must  tell  you.  After  my  election  in  October 
I  had  several  months  to  think  it  over  before  going  to 
Washington,  and  I  often  wondered  if  I  hadn't  over- 
stepped myself  in  pushing  my  ambition.  I  had  always 
been  a  common  clodhopper,  as  you  all  know\  had  slept 
in  my  blankets  all  over  the  Northw-est.  lived  for  wrecks 
on  sowbelly  and  beans  w^hile  chasing  Indians,  w^orn  buck- 
skin trousers  and  gone  barefooted, — and  here  I  was, 
elected  to  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate,  the  greatest 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  129 

lawmaking  body  in  the  world!  Often,  when  I  was  out 
looking  after  the  cattle  or  harnessing  the  horses,  I  would 
debate  the  situation  with  myself  and  wonder  if,  after 
all,  I  hadn't  made  a  mistake, — whether  it  wouldn't  be 
better  to  resign,  giving  an  opportunity  for  the  selection  of 
some  man  who  was  competent  to  hold  his  own  with  the 
big  men  whom  a  Senator  is  compelled  to  meet. 

"I  had  a  mighty  exalted  idea  as  to  the  size  of  the 
United  States  Senators — of  any  United  States  Senator — 
and  many  times  in  the  night  I  would  lie  awake  and  almost 
shudder  at  what  my  friends  had  done  in  putting  me 
in  such  a  position — knowing  as  they  did,  my  limitations. 
And  when  I  was  on  my  way  to  Washington  I  got  right 
down  to  bedrock  in  my  analysis  of  the  situation  and 
said :  'Nesmith,  how  in  the  d — ^ — 1  did  you  ever  get  to 
be  a  United  States  Senator,  anyway  ?'  But  do  you  know 
that  after  I  had  been  with  Sumner,  Morrill,  Wade, 
Bayard,  Chase,  and  Cameron  and  the  rest  of  'em,  and 

got  to  know  them  well,  my  wonder  was  how  in  h 

they  ever  got  there!" 

As  I  was  saying,  however.  Professor  Gatch  himself 
came  to  my  rescue,  and  with  his  reassuring  words  I 
began  to  feel  at  home  at  the  Institute  and  soon  had  a 
bunch  of  chums  who  were  original  enough  and  mis- 
chievous enough  to  make  life  worth  living.  Many  of 
these  I  meet  frequently  in  these  days,  so  far  removed 
from  the  joyous  time  when  it  required  a  mighty  solid 
obstacle  to  form  a  real  shadow  across  our  pathways. 

Professor  Gatch  lived  in  an  ''L"  which  projected  to 
the  south  from  the  main  Institute  building,  and  which 
had  been  occupied  by  former  presidents  of  the  school. 
He  was  universally  liked,  though  he  seemed  to  be  devoid 
of  humor — due  to  the  fact,  probably,  that  his  time  was 
so  valuable  and  so  completely  taken  up  that  he  found 
his  only  recreation  in  added  application  to  his  work. 

In  1877,  after  having  lived  in  eastern  Oregon  for  ten 
years,  I  returned  to  the  Waldo  Hills  to  resume  my  per- 
manent residence  there,  taking  with  me  a  certificate  of 
membership  in  the  Cove  Lodge  I.  O.  O.  F.     I  desired  to 


130  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

transfer  my  membership  to  the  OHve  Lodge  in  Salem  and 
gave  the  certificate  to  Professor  Gatch  for  presentation.  I 
found  he  had  again  become  president  of  the  University 
and  was  himself  a  member  of  Olive  Lodge.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  warmth  with  which  he  greeted  me.  I  had  not 
seen  him  since  my  school  days,  twelve  years  before,  and 
he  always  regarded  one  of  his  old  pupils  as  a  member 
of  his  family. 

Professor  Gatch  undoubtedly  occupies  an  exalted  place 
in  the  esteem  of  more  people  than  any  other  man  in  the 
Northwest,  since  his  great  work  has  covered  so  much 
territory.  There  are  many  thousands  of  men  and  women 
on  the  Pacific  Coast  now  who  owe  him  a  direct  debt 
of  gratitude  for  his  splendid  example,  his  helpful  advice 
and  his  invariable  insistence  upon  having  the  right  thing 
done.  At  the  age  of  seventy-eight  years  he  is  resting 
from  his  labors  and  enjoying  the  fruits  of  a  long  life 
well  spent  in  the  interest  of  his  fellows. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

To  many  people  no  part  of  the  story  of  a  State  is  so 
interesting  as  that  which  pertains  to  its  early  settlement. 
Not  only  is  this  true  as  to  the  pioneers  themselves — those 
who  actually  endured  the  privations  necessarily  connected 
wdth  the  reaching  and  subjugation  of  a  region  thousands 
of  miles  removed  from  the  nearest  outposts  of  civiliza- 
tion— but  younger  people,  those  who  are  fond  of  history 
or  even  of  romance,  take  a  delight  in  hearing  of  the  in- 
cidents which  constituted  the  experience  of  those  who 
"crossed  the  plains"  and  formed  a  part  of  the  immi- 
grant trains  which  conquered  the  desert,  met  the  savage 
Indians  without  fear,  mocked  at  the  roadless  mountains, 
swam  the  fordless  rivers,  used  "buffalo  chips"  for  fuel, 
went  hungry  much  of  the  time  at  the  last  end  of  the  trip, 
and  finally  reached  the  promised  land  destitute,  most  of 
them,  many  of  them  sick,  but  all  of  them  brave  and 
hopeful. 

For  the  weakling  didn't  start  to  Oregon  in  the  '40's; 
or,  if  he  did,  he  soon  lost  his  "grip"  and  returned  to  his 
former  home.  Many  did  this.  But  the  pioneers  were  all 
of  the  stuff  out  of  w'hich  real  men  and  women  are  made 
and  the  historian  doesn't  need  to  draw  upon  his  imagina- 
tion in  order  to  make  his  narrative  read  like  a  composite 
story  of  the  old  martyrs.  For  instance,  my  own  mother 
was  thirteen  and  a  half  years  old  when  she  started  across 
the  plains  with  her  parents  in  April,  1847,  but  she  walked 
practically  all  the  way  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the 
Willamette  valley.  She  was  the  oldest  of  six  children, 
and  as  there  were  some  loose  horses  and  cattle  every  day 
which  would  not  follow  the  train  unless  made  to  do  so, 
she  was  required  to  "trail"  behind  them  and  see  that 
none  was  lost.  To  be  sure,  the  distance  made  would 
not  average  more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  a  day,  but  it 

131 


132  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

necessitated  walking  in  the  dust  caused  by  hundreds  of 
tramping  oxen  and  horses,  besides  the  duty  of  keeping 
the  stubborn  or  contrary  or  indifferent  animals  from 
lagging  behind.  And  her  duties  were  not  deemed  par- 
ticularly hard  when  compared  with  those  assigned  to 
every  other  member  of  the  train  who  was  old  enough 
to  stand  alone.  Everybody,  including  "father."  was  re- 
quired to  work,  and  the  slothful  one  was  not  permitted  to 
lag  very  far  before  he  was  made  to  feel  an  energetic 
prod  which  brought  him  up  standing. 

b^or  the  purpose  of  illustrating  to  the  younger  genera- 
tion the  suffering  experienced  by  thousands  who  came  to 
Oregon  in  the  early  days,  it  is  deemed  well  to  incorporate 
here  a  few  pages  of  extracts  from  a  diary  kept  by  a 
pioneer  woman,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Smith,  who  crossed  the 
])lains  in  1847,  '^"^^  '^'^^o  was  afterwards  w^ell  known  in 
the  Willamette  valley.  She  was  the  mother  of  Airs. 
P.  S.  Knight,  of  Salem,  and  of  Judge  Seneca  Smith,  a 
well-known  attorney  of  Portland.  Each  night,  after  her 
eight  children  were  asleep,  she  would  write  her  notes  for 
that  day.  She  wTOte  it  in  letter  form  the  next  year  and 
sent  it  to  some  friends  in  Indiana,  who,  fifteen  years 
later,  sent  it  to  Mrs.  Knight.  It  is  now  the  property  of 
the  State  Historical  Society,  where  it  will  be  kept  per- 
manently as  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of 
Oregon  as  vividly  portraying  the  hardships  endured  by 
those  who  laid  the  foundation  for  one  of  the  greatest 
States  in  the  Union.  Her  letter  and  diary,  in  part, 
follow : 

L.\FAYETTE,    YaMHILL    CoUNTY,    OREGON, 

May  25,  1848. 
Mrs.    Pauline   Foster   and    Mrs.    Cynthia   Ames 
La  Porte,  Indiana  : 

Dear  Friends, — By  your  request  I  have  endeavored 
to  keep  a  record  of  our  journey  from  "The  States" 
to  Oregon,  though  it  is  poorly  done,  owing  to  my  hav- 
ing a  young  babe  and,  besides,  a  large  family  to  do 
for;  and,  worst  of  all,  my  education  is  limited. 

April  21,  1847.  Commenced  our  journey  from  La 
Porte,  Ind.,  to  Oregon.     Made  fourteen  miles. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  133 

April  22.   Made  twelve  miles.   Rain  all  day. 
April  2}^.  Made  nineteen  miles;  traveled  till  dark. 
Ate  a  cold  bite  and  went  to  bed  chilly  and  cold,  which 
is  very  disagreeable,  with  a  parcel  of  children. 

April  25.  Last  night  our  cattle  ran  off,  conse- 
quently, we  made  only  eleven  miles. 

April  26.  Made  sixteen  miles.  Had  a  view  of  Mt. 
Juliett.  It  is  one  of  the  great  works  of  nature.  We 
see  a  great  many  admirable  works  of  n-ature  and  art 
as  we  pass  through  Illinois. 

April  29.  Made  sixteen  miles  through  a  delightful 
country  and  camped  on  the  Illinois  River.  Cold  and 
rainy. 

April  30.  Made  fourteen  miles.  Passed  through 
Peru.  Traveled  through  a  beautiful  and  fertile  coun- 
try.    Cold  and  rainy. 

May  I.  Made  nineteen  miles.  Passed  through 
Princeton,  Bureau  County,  111.  Rich  soil.  Hundreds 
of  acres  not  owned  nor  cultivated  by  any  one. 

May  2.  Made  twenty  miles.  Exceedingly  cold  for 
the  season. 

May  3.  Made  twenty  miles.  Cold  and  dry.  All 
in  good   spirits. 

May  4.    Made  twenty  miles.     Pleasant  weather. 

May  5.  Made  sixteen  miles.  Passed  through  Hen- 
dersonville  and  Galesburg,  Knox  County,  111.  Good 
roads.     Fine  weather. 

May  7.    Made  twelve  miles.     Rainy  weather. 

May  8.  Crossed  the  Mississippi  River  on  a  ferry. 
Delayed  in  Burlington.  Made  seven  miles.  In  Bur- 
lington I  saw  Percy  Mitchell's  first  wife. 

May  9.  Passed  Augusta,  a  small  village.  Ferried 
Skunk   River. 

May  10.    Fine  weather.   Laid  by  to  wash. 

May   II.    Laid  by  for  rain. 

May  14.  Forded  the  Des  Moines  River.  Made 
eighteen  miles. 

May  15.  Fell  in  with  several  Oregon  wagons. 
Made  eighteen  miles. 

May  16.    Made  fifteen  miles.    Rained  all  day. 

May  17.    Laid  by  for  rain. 

May  19.    Last  night  one  of  our  cows  went  back 


134  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

one  day's  journey  to  see  her  calf  that  we  had  given 
away  that  morning. 

May  20.  Made  eighteen  miles.  Rainy  weather,  bad 
roads. 

May  21.  Made  seven  miles.  W'ater-boimd  bv  a 
branch  of  Grand  River.     Hilly  and  bad  roads. 

May  22.  Water-bound  by  a  creek  called  the 
Muddy. 

May  23.  Crossed  Weldon  River,  Missouri  State. 
Made   seven   miles. 

May  24.  Made  twelve  miles.  Rain  all  day.  En- 
camped in  a  marsh.  Shoe-mouth  deep  in  water. 
The  men  peeled  bark,  made  a  floor,  built  a  fire  on  it 
to  dry  themselves  and  get  supper  by. 

May  25.    Made  two  miles.     Water-bound. 

May  27.  Made  fourteen  miles.  Crossed  Big 
Creek.     It  has  on  it  one  sawmill  and  one  gristmill. 

May  28.  Made  twenty-eight  miles.  Crossed  Sam- 
son Creek.  Encamped  without  food  or  water  on  a 
large  prairie.    Ate  a  cold  bite  and  went  to  bed. 

May  30.  Rained  this  morning  until  late.  Made 
eight  miles.  Crossed  a  river  called  Hundred  and  Two 
on  a  dangerous  bridge  and  encamped. 

May  31.    Laid  by  to  wash. 

June  I.      Lying  by. 

June  3.  Passed  through  St.  Joseph  on  the  Mis- 
souri River.  Laid  in  our  flour,  cheese,  crackers  and 
medicine,  for  no  one  should  travel  this  road  without 
medicine,  for  they  are  almost  sure  to  have  the  sum- 
mer complaint.  Each  family  should  have  a  box  of 
physicing  pills,  a  quart  of  castor  oil,  a  quart  of  the 
best  rum  and  a  large  vial  of  peppermint  essence. 

June  4.  Crossed  the  Missouri  River.  Doubled 
teams  with  difficulty.  Ascended  a  hill  or  mountain. 
Traveled  tliree  miles  and  encamped.  We  ar©  now  in 
Indian    Territory. 

June  6.  Made  eighteen  miles.  Passed  seventy 
Oregon  wagons  as  they  were  encamped. 

June  8.  Made  twenty  miles;  crossed  one  creek. 
Very  high  and  steep  banks.  Where  I  know  the  names 
of   streams   I  give  them. 

June  II.    Made  eighteen  miles.     Crossed  the  Blue 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  135 

Earth  River.  One  wagon  turned  over  just  at  the 
water,  but  happily  nobody  was  hurt. 

June  14.  Made  eighteen  miles.  We  are  con- 
tinually finding  elks'  horns,  buflfaloes'  skulls  and  car- 
casses. 

June  16.  Made  seventeen  miles.  Saw  one  grave 
day  before  yesterday  and  one  to-day  by  the  lonely 
wayside.     Made  this  spring. 

June  17.  Made  twelve  miles.  Fell  in  with  eighteen 
wagons.  Broke  an  axle-tree.  Laid  by  and  made  a 
new  one.     Stood  guard  all  night  in  the  rain. 

June  18.  Finished  the  broken  axle.  Made  five 
miles.  Encamped  in  a  circle  as  is  our  custom.  Put 
out  guards   and   retired   to   rest. 

June  19.  Made  twenty  miles.  Every  night  when 
we  encamp  we  make  quite  a  village,  but  take  it  up  the 
next  day.  We  have  plenty  of  music  with  a  flute  and 
violin  and  some  dancing. 

June  20.  Made  ten  miles.  Encamped  on  the  Platte. 
The  ground  here  is  covered  with  a  white  surface. 
Something  between  salt  and  salts.  The  cattle  are  fond 
of  it. 

June  21.  Made  eighteen  miles.  Last  night  had  two 
more  horses  stolen.  One  belonged  to  the  same  man 
who  lost  one  of  the  first  ones.  It  was  a  fine  horse 
and  his  last  one.  Our  road  along  the  Platte  is  beauti- 
ful and  level.  The  river  is  a  mile  wide  or  more,  and 
very  rily  and  shallow. 

June  22.  Made  fifteen  miles.  See  antelope  every 
day. 

June  23.  Made  eighteen  miles.  At  present  there 
are  one  hundred  and  forty  persons  in  our  company. 
We  see  thousands  of  buflfaloes,  and  have  to  use  their 
dung  for  fuel.  A  man  will  gather  a  bushel  in  a  min- 
ute. Three  bushels  make  a  good  fire.  We  call  the 
stuflf  "buflfalo  chips." 

June  24.  Made  ten  miles.  Stopped  to  kill  a  buf- 
falo, but  did  not  succeed.  Saw  hundreds  of  prairie 
dogs  barking  about.  They  are  about  as  large  as  a 
gray  gopher.     Saw  another  grave. 

June  26.  Made  ten  miles.  Killed  three  buflfaloes. 
Their  flesh  is  generally  coarser  and  drier  than  beef. 


136  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

but  a  fat  buffalo  heifer  is  as  good  meat  as  I  would 
wish  to  taste. 

June  28.  Made  eighteen  miles.  Saw  thousands  of 
buffaloes.  Caught  two  of  their  calves.  One  ran  away 
the  other  day.  The  other  they  drove  along  with  the 
loose  cattle  several  miles.  It  hnally  left  them.  Nine 
wagons  overtook  us. 

June  2.J.  Made  fifteen  miles.  Killed  four  buffaloes. 
At  the  least  calculation  we  saw  three  thousand  buf- 
faloes to-day.    A  buffalo  rolls  and  gallops  like  a  horse. 

June  29.  This  morning  eight  of  our  largest  and 
best  work  oxen  were  missing,  besides  two  yoke  of 
Welch's,  three  yoke  of  Adam  Polk's,  and  about  thirty- 
nine  head  belonging  to  the  company — all  work  oxen, 
right  out  of  our  company.  Here  we  are,  thousands 
of  miles  from  any  inhabitants,  and  thus  deprived  of 
teams — an  appalling  situation.  We  had  only  one  yoke 
left.     We  hunted  in  every  direction  without  success. 

June  30.  Hunted  all  day.  Our  cattle  hunters,  my 
husband  among  them,  were  so  far  from  camp,  some 
thirty  miles,  that  they  staid  away  all  night. 

July  I.  To-day  when  our  Imnters  came  in  they 
brought  one  dead  man ;  he  had  shot  himself  acci- 
dentally. He  left  a  wife  and  six  small  children.  The 
distress  of  his  wife  I  cannot  describe.  He  was  an 
excellent  man  and  very  much  missed.  His  name  was 
Smith  Dunlap,  from  Chicago,  111.  The  hunters  found 
no  cattle. 

July  2.  A  trying  time.  So  many  of  us  having  to 
get  teams,  had  to  hire,  borrow,  buy,  just  as  we  could. 
Had  to  take  cows,  raw  cattle,  or  anything  we  could 
get.  Some  had  to  apply  to  other  companies  for  help. 
At  last  we  moved  off.     Made  fifteen  miles. 

July  6.  Made  eighteen  miles.  Our  cattle  are  lame. 
It  is  plain  to  my  mind  what  makes  their  feet  wear 
out.     It  is  the  alkaline  nature  of  the  ground. 

July  7.  This  country  is  full  of  curiosities.  Hun- 
dreds of  acres  seem  to  have  been  bursted  and  thrown 
open  by  volcanic  eruptions.  The  earth  along  here 
is  strong  with  lye.  After  a  shower,  if  the  little  ponds 
were  not  rily,  one  could  wash  linen  witliout  soap. 

July  8.  Made  twelve  miles.  vSaw  Chimney  Rock. 
It  is  a  curiosity,  indeed.     A  rock,  or  rather  a  hard 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  137 

clay,  standing  alone,  towering  in  the  air  perhaps  three 
hundred  feet.  All  of  the  lofty  rocks  along  here  are 
composed  of  that  same  material.  Some  of  them  re- 
semble old  demolished  villages,  half-sunk  in  the 
ground,  with  the  stovepipes  sticking  out  of  the  ground. 
To-day  we  had  the  most  dreadful  hail-storm  I  ever 
witnessed,  in  which  a  young  woman  and  I  came  near 
being  caught  as  we  went  out  to  the  famous  Chimney 
Rock.  Fortunately  we  reached  one  of  the  foremost 
wagons  just  as  the  hail  began  to  pelt  us.  It  tore  some 
of  the  wagon  covers  off,  broke  some  bows  and  made 
the  oxen  run  away — making  bad  work.  They  say  that 
about  here  it  is  subject  to  tornadoes. 

July  9.  To-day  we  saw  by  the  wayside  about  two 
acres  of  fine  white  stone,  all  cut  up  comparatively 
in  pieces  about  ten  feet  square  and  two  feet  thick. 
I  ran  barefooted  to  get  on  them,  but  got  my  feet  full 
of  stickers  and  was  glad  to  get  back  to  my  wagon. 
All  the  herbs  in  this  region  are  briery  and  prickly. 
The  sage  is  dreadful  on  one's  clothes.  It  grows  from 
one  to  six  feet  high  and  has  a  stalk  like  our  tame  sage 
or  sedge.  The  leaves  are  smaller  and  very  narrow.  It 
has  a  sage  taste,  but  is  very  bitter,  besides.  We  travel 
through  a  shrub  called  greasewood — generally  not  so 
large  as  the  sage.  It  is  very  thorny.  We  have  to 
use  it  sometimes  for  fuel.  Then  there  is  the  prickly 
pear — step  on  it  any  and  everywhere.  Look  out  for 
bare  feet.  Encamped  at  Scott's  Bluff.  Here  is  starva- 
tion. No  feed  and  little  water  after  traveling  twenty 
miles.  We  chained  up  our  oxen  to  the  wagon  wheels 
and  started  next  morning  by  sunrise. 

July  10.  Made  twelve  miles  through  a  barren,  deso- 
late region.  Encamped  on  a  creek  and  found  feed  and 
willows. 

July  12.  Made  ten  miles.  Encamped  at  a  French 
and  Indian  residence.  As  soon  as  we  had  corralled, 
the  Indians  flocked  in  and  spread  their  blankets  and 
begged  for  presents.  We  gave  them  meat,  flour  and 
beans,  for  which  we  afterward  suffered. 

July  13.  This  morning  five  of  our  work  cattle  were 
missing.  The  men  hunted  and  hired  Indians  to  hunt, 
but  found  no  cattle.  Emptied  one  wagon  and  went 
on.     Passed  Fort  Laramie.     Made  five  miles  and  en- 


138  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

camped.  The  Indians  came  as  before  and  sat  down 
in  a  circle  and  spread  a  blanket  in  their  midst  and 
begged  for  presents.  We  gave  them  provisions  and 
they  dispersed. 

July  14.  Laid  by.  Found  the  cattle.  Paid  the 
Indians  fifteen  dollars  for  hunting,  although  our  men 
found  them. 

July  15.    Made    twenty    miles    through    a    barren 
desert.     Found  wood  and  water  but  no  feed.     Rain 
to-night.     I  intend  to  state  all  the  rain  we  have. 
Poor  woman !     She  little  knew  when  she  wrote  that 
sentence  how^  she  and  her  children  were  going  to  suffer 
by  reason  of  the  excessive  amount  of  rain  during  the 
latter  part  of  their  journey.     As  this  diary  is  a  faithful 
kaleidoscopic  presentation  of  the  average  experience  of 
those  who  "pioneered"  to  Oregon  in  the  early  days,  I  will 
make  a  larger  requisition  upon  its  contents  than  was 
at  first  intended,  since  it  tells  briefly  the  w'hole  heroic 
story.     It  is  a  volume  in  a  few  pages,  graphically  por- 
traying the  increasing  dangers  which  beset  the  pioneers 
and  the  grow-ing  necessity  on  their  part  for  patience  and 
courage. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

By  the  middle  of  July  the  train  in  which  Mrs.  Smith 
and  husband  were  traveling  had  reached  the  Black  Hills, 
a  region  made  famous  by  its  mines.  On  July  25  Mrs, 
Smith  made  this  record : 

Encamped  at  Willow  Springs,  a  handsome  place  of 
grass  and  willows.  To-day  we  crossed  a  little  muddy 
branch.  Along  the  sides  of  it  we  could  have  gathered 
pails  of  clean  saltpeter.  Many  of  our  cattle  are  sick 
and    dying. 

July  27.  We,  on  rising  this  morning,  baked  a  lot 
of  light  bread  and  moved  on.  Passed  Independence 
Rock. 

July  29.  Made  eighteen  miles.  I  could  write  a 
great  deal  more  if  I  had  the  opportunity.  Sometimes 
I  do  not  get  a  chance  to  write  anything  for  two  or 
three  days,  and  then  have  to  rise  in  the  night  when  my 
babe  and  all  hands  are  asleep,  light  a  candle  and  write. 

July  31.  Encamped  at  the  foot  of  South  Pass. 
Here  we  found  some  gooseberries ;  they  were  as 
smooth  as  currants  and  taste  much  like  fox  grapes. 
All  the  gooseberries  this  side  of  the  Missouri  are 
smooth.  Still  we  have  sage  to  cook  with.  I  do  not 
know  which  is  best  to  cook  with — it  or  "buffalo  chips." 
Just  step  out  and  pull  a  lot  of  sage  out  of  your 
garden  and  build  a  fire  in  the  wind,  and  bake,  boil 
and  fry  by  it,  and  then  you  will  guess  how  we  do. 

August  I.  Passed  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
backbone  of  America.  It  is  all  rocks  on  top  and  they 
are  all  split  up  and  turned  up  edgeways.  Oh,  that 
I  had  time  to  describe  this  curious  country.  We 
wound  over  the  mountains  along  a  very  crooked  road. 
Had  rain  and  hail  to-day,  which  made  it  very  dis- 
agreeable. 

August  3.  Encamped  on  the  Little  Sandy.  Are 
two  days'  journey  into  the  Oregon  territory  and  have 

139 


140  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

found  no  timber  except  on  the  streams  since  we  left 
the  Missouri. 

August  6.  Crossed  Green  River,  a  large  and  beau- 
tiful stream,  bordered  with  considerable  timber — 
quaking  asp. 

August  7.  Encamped  on  Black's  Fork,  a  small  river 
bordered  with  willows.  This  large  waste  of  country, 
in  my  opinion,  has  once  been  a  sea.  My  husband 
found  on  top  of  a  mountain  seashells  petrified  into 
stone.  The  crevices  in  the  rocks  show  the  different 
stages  of  the  water. 

August  7.  Encamped  at  Fort  Bridger.  One  of 
the  superintendents  traveled  with  us  from  Fort 
Laramie  to  this  place.  He  is  a  good  and  intelligent 
man.  He  has  a  white  wife.  Long  will  he  remember 
the  captain  of  our  company,  Cornelius  Smith.  They 
were  great  friends. 

August  12.  Still  at  Fort  Bridger.  Here  we  have 
a  good  time  for  washing,  which  we  women  deem  a 
great  privilege. 

August  15.  Passed  over  one  high  mountain.  Made 
twenty  miles  and  encamped  without  food,  water  or 
fuel. 

August  16.  Started  without  breakfast.  Made  nine 
miles  and  encamped  on  Bear  River. 

August  22.  Saw  some  of  nature's  curious  works. 
Here  are  mounds  perhaps  forty  feet  in  diameter  and 
ten  feet  high,  composed  of  shelly  stone.  In  the  middle 
of  the  mound  stands  a — I  know  not  what  to  call  it — 
it  looks  like  a  stump  about  three  feet  high.  It  has 
a  hole  in  the  top  full  of  boiling  water  and  running 
over  all  the  time.  It  is  the  water  that  makes  the 
mounds.  The  water  is  blood  warm  and  has  a  little 
of  the  soda  taste.  A  mile  or  so  from  here  are  the 
Soda  Springs.  They  are  not  so  good  as  represented. 
Only  one  or  two  of  the  company  like  it.  It  tastes  like 
vinegar  with  a  little  saleratus  in  it.  They  are  generally 
ten  feet  across  and  look  like  hog  wallows  more  than 
springs,  though  T  saw  one  that  was  clear.  About  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  Soda  Springs  is  a  boiling 
spring  which  boils  over  and  foams  and  runs  over 
thirty  barrels  in  a  day.  It  boils  out  of  the  stone.  The 
hole  is  about  as  large  as  a  large  dinner  pot.     Every 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  141 

few  minutes  the  water  will  bounce  up  three  or  four 
feet. 

August  2^.  Made  sixteen  miles.  Encamped  with 
nothing  but  green  sage  to  cook  with.  Good  feed. 
This  sage  is  larger  than  the  tame  sage,  but  much  like 
it  in  appearance.     It  sometimes  grows  six  feet  high. 

August  28.  Passed  Fort  Hall.  Captain  Grant,  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  is  not  that  charitable  gen- 
tleman we  expected  to  see,  but  a  boasting,  burlesquing, 
unfeeling  man, 

August  29.  Made  sixteen  miles.  You  in  "the 
States"  know  nothing  of  dust.  It  will  fly  so  that  you 
can  hardly  see  the  horns  of  the  tongue-yoke  of  oxen. 
It  often  seems  that  the  cattle  must  die  for  want  of 
breath,  and  then  in  our  wagons,  such  a  spectacle — 
beds,  clothes,  victuals  and  children  all  completely 
covered. 

September  4.  Made  fourteen  miles.  Camped  with- 
out feed.     Had  cedar  to  burn. 

September  7.  Nooned  at  Snake  River,  Watered 
our  cattle  and  moved  on  two  miles  and  camped.  Two 
men  were  left  behind,  which  was  always  the  case  with 
them,  they  had  such  heavy  loads.  They  came  up  after- 
wards, and  while  watering,  some  of  their  cattle  swam 
over  the  river.  One  of  the  men  swam  after  them, 
and  before  he  got  across  sank  to  rise  no  more.  He 
left  a  wife  and  three  small  children.  The  other  came  ' 
running  up  to  camp  to  let  us  know.  Some  went  back 
and  staid  with  them.  By  this  time  another  company 
had  overtaken  them.  Next  morning  my  husband  took 
a  horse  and  went  back  to  swim  a  horse  over  after 
the  cattle.  The  man  that  owned  the  cattle  took  the 
horse  and  swam  after  the  cattle,  and  while 
coming  back  by  some  means  got  off  the  horse  and 
sank  and  was  seen  no  more.  He  left  a  wife  and 
six  helpless  children.  Mv  husband  stood  watching 
him.  It  is  supposed  that  there  is  a  whirlpool  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river. 

September  8.  We  moved  on,  for  we  had  neither 
feed  nor  water.  Camped  on  Snake  River.  My  hus- 
band came  up  at  ten  o'clock  and  told  us  the  shock- 
ing news. 

September  12.    One  of  our  oxen  died.    The  Indians 


142  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

along  Snake  River  go  naked  except  an  old  rag  tied 
around  their  hips.  They  have  few  horses,  no  blankets. 
The  immigrants  trade  them  old  clothes  for  fish  which 
were  dead,  no  doubt,  when  they  were  caught. 

September  14.  Blocked  up  our  wagon  beds  and 
forded  Snake  River,  which  was  wide,  deep  and  swift. 
Champed  at  a  spring  with  good  grass. 

September  15.  Laid  by.  This  morning  our  com- 
pany moved  on,  except  one  family.  The  woman  got 
mad  and  wouldn't  budge  nor  let  the  children  go.  He 
had  the  cattle  hitclied  on  for  three  hours  and  coaxed 
her  to  go,  but  she  wouldn't  stir.  I  told  my  husband 
the  circumstance  and  he  and  Adam  Polk  and  Mr. 
Kimball  went  and  each  one  took  a  young  one  and 
crammed  them  in  the  wagon  and  the  husband  drove 
ofT  and  left  her  sitting.  She  got  up,  took  the  back 
track  and  traveled  out  of  sight.  Cut  across  and  over- 
took her  husband.  Meantime  he  sent  his  boy  back  to 
camp  after  a  horse  he  had  left,  and  when  she  came 
up  her  husband  said,  "Did  you  meet  John?"  "Yes," 
was  the  reply,  "and  I  picked  up  a  stone  and  knocked 
out  his  brains."  Her  husband  went  back  to  ascer- 
tain the  truth  and  while  he  was  gone  she  set  fire  to 
one  of  the  wagons  that  was  loaded  with  store  goods. 
The  cover  burnt  off  with  some  valuable  articles.  He 
saw  the  flames  and  came  running  and  put  it  out,  and 
then  mustered  up  spunk  enough  to  give  her  a  good 

flogging- 
September  19.  Made  nineteen  miles  over  mountains 
and  dust.     Camped  on   Boise  River.     Good  feed. 

September  23.  Forded  Snake  River  just  before 
dark.  It  was  waist  deep  and  very  cold.  It  is  a  large 
and  swift-running  river. 

September  24.  Mr.  Kimball's  oldest  son  died  last 
night  of  typhus  fever. 

September  25.  Buried  the  corpse.  Camped  on 
Burnt   River. 

September  28.  Crossed  Burnt  River  six  times.  We 
are  all  the  time  either  on  a  hill  or  in  a  hollow. 

September  29.  Made  eleven  miles.  Winding  in  and 
between  mountains  all  day. 

October  i.  A  woman  of  our  company  died  as  we 
ivere  traveling  along. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  143 

October  4.  Camped  on  north  branch  of  Powder 
River.     MiddUng     feed. 

October    5.      Camped    on    head    waters    of    Grand 
Ronde.     Plenty  of  feed  and  pine  to  burn. 

October  6.  Passed  over  one  difficult  and  stony 
mountain.  If  Grand  Ronde  was  west  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains,  how  soon  it  would  be  taken  up.  It  is 
level  and  covered  with  grass  and  watered  with  brooks 
and  springs.     It  has  a  river  flowing  through  it. 

October  9.  Doubled  teams  up  another  mountain. 
Camped  at  Pine  Creek.  To  some  wagons  they  put 
nine  yoke  of  oxen.  My  husband  and  I  are  both  sick 
with  summer  complaint. 

October  11.  Made  twelve  miles.  Camped  near  a 
branch  of  the  Utilla  (Umatilla)   River. 

October  12.  Went  three  miles.  Here  our  company 
separated.  Some  went  to  Whitman's  Mission  to  win- 
ter, and  they  were  murdered  in  the  general  massacre, 
of  which  I  suppose  you  have  already  heard.  Here 
my  husband  bought  a  beef  of  the  Indians.  It  was 
eighteen  months  old  and  weighed  four  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds.  He  paid  them  with  a  cow  and  calf 
and  a  new  shirt. 

October  17.  Cold  and  windy.  We  made  a  fire 
of  a  little  wood  that  we  carried  all  day  yesterday. 
Made  a  bite  to  eat.  Our  cattle  ran  off  in  search  of 
water,  which  hindered  us  until  late.  Camped  with- 
out wood  except  a  small  shrub  called  greasewood.  It 
burns  like  greased  weeds.  I  used  to  wonder  why 
it  was  said  that  men  must  be  dressed  in  buckskin  to 
come  to  this  country,  but  now  I  know.  Everything 
we  travel  through  is  thorny  and  rough.  There  is  no 
chance  to  save  your  clothes.  Here  we  found  a  great 
hole  of  water  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  across.  Had  to 
water  one  hundred  and  fifty  head  of  cattle  with  pails. 
Had  to  stand  out  all  night  in  the  rain  to  keep  the  cattle 
from  drowning  each  other — after  water  in  this  hole. 
October  21.  Camped  on  John  Day's  River.  Here 
we  put  out  a  guard  for  fear  of  Indians,  which  we  have 
not  done  before  for  three  months. 

October  22.  Traveled  up  a  long,  steep  ascent  be- 
tween two  mountains.    The  road  was  so  narrow  that 


144  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

a  wagon  could  scarcely  squeeze  along,  and  very  rough 
at   that. 

October  22,.  Camped  on  the  Columbia  River. 
Scarce  feed.  No  wood  or  shrubs.  We  had  to  burn 
little  green  weeds. 

October  24.  Crossed  Falls  or  Shutes  River.  It 
was  high,  rapid  and  dangerous.  The  water  came 
clear  to  the  tops  of  the  wagon  beds.  My  children  and 
I,  with  as  many  more  women  and  children  as  could 
be  stowed  into  a  canoe,  were  taken  over  by  two 
Indians,  which  cost  a  good  many  shirts.  The  Indians 
are  thick  as  hops  here  and  not  very  friendly.  Anv 
body  in  preparing  to  come  to  this  country  should  make 
up  some  calico  shirts  to  trade  to  the  Indians  in  case 
of  necessity.  You  will  have  to  hire  them  to  pilot  you 
across  the  rivers.  When  we  got  here  my  folks  were 
about  stripped  of  shirts,  trousers,  jackets  and 
"wamusses." 

October  26.  Made  ten  miles  over  a  mountain  all 
the  way.  Saw  oak  trees  for  the  first  time  in  Oregon. 
Camped  on  the  Columbia. 

October  zy.  Passed  what  is  called  the  Dalles  Mis- 
sion, where  two  white  families  live  with  the  Indians. 
It  looks  like  starvation. 

October  28.  Here  are  a  great  many  immigrants 
camped.  Some  making  rafts,  others  going  down  in 
boats  which  have  been  sent  up  by  speculators. 

October  29.    Rained  most  all  day.     Cold  weather. 

October  30.  Rainy  day.  Men  making  rafts.  Women 
cooking  and  washing  and  babies  crying.  Indians 
bartering  potatoes  for  shirts.  They  must  have  a  good 
shirt  for  a  peck  of  potatoes. 

October  31.  Snow  close  by  on  the  mountains.  We 
should  have  gone  over  the  mountains  with  our  wagons, 
but  they  are  covered  with  snow  and  we  must  go  down 
by  water  and  drive  our  cattle  over  the  mountains. 

November  i.  W'e  are  lying  by  waiting  for  the  wind 
to  blow  down  stream  in  order  that  we  may  embark 
with  our  raft. 

November  2.  \Yq  took  off  our  wagon  wheels,  laid 
them  on  the  raft,  placed  the  wagon  beds  on  them  and 
started.     There  are  three  families  of  us,  Adam  Folk, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  145 

Russell  W'elch  and  ourselves,  on  twelve  logs  eighteen 
inches  through  and  forty  feet  long.  The  water  runs 
three  inches  over  our  raft. 

November  3.  Still  lying  by  waiting  for  calm. 
Cold  and  disagreeable  weather. 

November  4.  Rain  all  day.  Laid  by  for  the  water 
to  become  calm.  We  clambered  up  a  steep  hillside 
among  the  rocks  and  built  a  iire  and  tried  to  cook  and 
warm  ourselves  and  children,  while  the  wind  blew  and 
the  waves  rolled  beneath. 

November  5.  Still  lying  by  waiting  for  calm 
weather.     Mr.  Polk  is  very  sick. 

November  7.  Put  out  in  rough  water.  Moved  a 
few  miles.  The  water  became  so  rough  that  we  were 
forced  to  land.  No  one  to  man  the  raft  but  my  hus- 
band and  my  oldest  boy,  sixteen  years  old.  Russell 
Welch  and  our  youngest  boys  are  driving  our  cattle 
over  the  mountains.  Here  we  are  lying,  smoking 
our  eyes,  burning  our  clothes  and  trying  to  keep  warm. 
We  have  plenty  of  wood,  but  the  wind  takes  away  the 
warmth. 

November  8.  We  are  still  lying  at  anchor,  waiting 
for  the  wind  to  fall.  We  have  but  one  day's  provi- 
sions ahead  of  us  here.  We  can  see  snow  on  the  tops 
of  the  mountains  whose  rocky  heights  reach  to  the 
clouds  at  times.  A  few  Indians  call  on  us  and  steal 
something  from  us  but  we  are  not  afraid  of  them. 
Cold  weather — my  hands  are  so  cold  I  can  hardly 
write. 

November  9.  Finds  us  still  in  trouble.  Waves 
dashing  over  our  raft  and  we  already  stinting  our- 
selves in  provisions.  My  husband  started  this  morn- 
ing to  hunt  provisions.  Left  no  man  with  us  except 
our  oldest  boy.  It  is  very  cold.  The  icicles  are  hang- 
ing from  our  wagon  beds  to  the  water.  To-night 
about  dusk  Adam  Polk  expired.  No  one  with  him  but 
his  wife  and  myself.  We  sat  up  all  night  with  him 
while  the  waves  were  dashing  below. 

November  10.  Finds  us  still  waiting  for  calm 
weather.  My  husband  returned  at  two  o'clock. 
Brought  fifty  pounds  of  beef  on  his  back  twelve  miles, 
which  he  bought  from  another  company.  By  this  time 
the  water  had  become  calm  and  we  started  once  more, 


146  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

but  the  wind  soon  began  to  blow  and  we  were  forced  to 
land.  Aly  husband  and  boy  were  an  hour  and  a  half 
after  dark  getting  the  raft  landed  and  made  fast  while 
the  water  ran  knee-deep  over  our  raft,  the  wind  blew 
and  it  was  freezing  cold.  W'e  women  and  children 
didn't  attempt  to  get  out  of  the  wagons  to-night. 

November  ii.  Laid  by  most  all  day.  Started  this 
evening.  Ran  about  three  miles  and  landed  after 
dark.  Here  we  found  Welch  and  our  cattle,  for  they 
could  not  be  driven  farther  on  tliis  side  of  the  moun- 
tain. Here  was  a  ferry  for  the  purpose  of  ferrying 
immigrants'  cattle. 

November  12.  Ferried  our  cattle  across  the  Co- 
lumbia and  buried  Mr.  Polk.  Rained  all  day.  We  are 
living  entirely  on  beef. 

November  13.  We  got  the  ferrymen  to  shift  our 
load  onto  their  boat  and  take  us  down  to  the  falls, 
where  we  found  quite  a  town  of  people  waiting  for 
their  cattle  to  pull  them  around  the  falls.  Rain  all 
day. 

November  18.  My  husband  is  sick.  It  rains  and 
snows.  We  start  around  the  falls  this  morning  with 
our  wagons.  We  have  five  miles  to  go.  I  carry  my  babe 
and  lead,  or  rather  carry  another,  through  snow,  mud, 
and  water  almost  to  my  knees.  It  is  the  worst  road  a 
team  could  possibly  travel.  I  went  ahead  with  my 
children  and  I  was  afraid  to  look  behind  me  for  fear 
of  seeing  the  wagons  overturn  into  the  mud  and  water 
with  everything  in  them.  My  children  gave  out  with 
cold  and  fatigue  and  could  not  travel,  and  the  boys 
had  to  unhitch  the  oxen  and  bring  them  and  carry 
the  children  on  to  camp.  I  was  so  cold  and  numb 
that  I  could  not  tell  by  the  feeling  that  I  had  any  feet. 
We  started  this  morning  at  sunrise  and  did  not  camp 
until  after  dark,  and  there  was  not  one  dry  thread  on 
one  of  us — not  even  on  the  babe.  I  had  carried  my 
babe  and  I  was  so  fatigued  that  I  could  scarcely  speak 
or  step.  When  I  got  here  I  found  my  husband  lying 
in  Welch's  wagon  very  sick.  He  had  brought  Mrs. 
Polk  down  the  day  before  and  was  taken  sick.  We 
had  to  stay  up  all  night  for  our  wagons  were  left  half- 
way back.  I  have  not  told  half  we  suffered.  I  am  not 
adequate   to   the   task.      Here   were    some   hundreds 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  147 

camped,  waiting  for  some  boats  to  come  and  take  them 
down  to  Vancouver,  Portland  or  Oregon  City. 

November  19.  My  husband  is  sick  and  can  have  but 
httle  care.    Rain  all  day. 

November  20.  Rain  all  day.  It  is  almost  an  im- 
possibility to  cook,  and  quite  so  to  keep  warm  or  dry. 
I  froze  or  chilled  my  feet  so  that  I  cannot  wear  a  shoe, 
so  I  have  to  go  around  in  the  cold  water  in  my  bare 
feet. 

November  27.  Embarked  once  more  on  the  Colum- 
bia on  a  flatboat.  Ran  all  day,  though  the  waves 
threatened  hard  to  sink  us.  Passed  Fort  Vancouver 
in  the  night.  Landed  a  mile  below.  My  husband  has 
never  left  his  bed  since  he  was  taken  sick. 

November  29.  Landed  at  Portland  on  the  Wil- 
lamette, twelve  miles  above  its  mouth,  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night. 

November  30.  Raining.  This  morning  I  ran  about 
trying  to  get  a  house  to  get  into  with  my  sick  husband. 
At  last  I  found  a  small,  leaky  concern  with  two  fami- 
lies already  in  it.  Mrs.  Polk  had  got  down  before 
us.  She  and  another  widow  were  in  this  house.  My 
family  and  Welch's  went  in  with  them  and  you  could 
have  stirred  us  with  a  stick.  Welch  and  my  oldest  boy 
were  driving  our  cattle  around.  My  children  and  I 
carried  up  a  bed.  The  distance  was  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile.  Made  it  down  on  the  floor  in  the  mud.  I 
got  some  men  to  carry  my  husband  up  through  the 
rain  and  lay  him  on  it,  and  he  was  never  out  of  that 
shed  until  he  was  carried  out  in  his  coffin.  Here  lay 
five  of  us  bedfast  at  one  time,  and  we  had  no  money 
and  what  few  things  we  had  left  that  would  bring 
money  I  had  to  sell.  I  had  to  give  ten  cents  a  pound 
for  fresh  pork,  seventy-five  cents  a  bushel  for  potatoes 
and  four  cents  a  pound  for  fish.  There  are  so  many 
of  us  sick  that  I  cannot  write  any  more  at  present. 
I  have  not  time  to  write  much,  but  I  thought  it  would 
be  interesting  to  know  what  kind  of  weather  we  have 
in  the  winter. 

January  15,  1848.  My  husband  is  still  alive,  but 
very  sick.  There  is  no  medicine  here  except  at  Fort 
Vancouver,  and  the  people  there  will  not  sell  one  bit 
— not  even  a  bottle  of  wine. 


148  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

January  i6.  We  are  still  living  in  the  old  leaky 
shed  in  Portland.  It  is  six  miles  below  Vancouver 
and  up  the  Willamette  twelve  miles.  Portland  has 
two  white  houses  and  one  brick  and  three  wood- 
colored  frame  buildings  and  a  few  log  cabins. 

January  20.  Cool  and  dry.  Soldiers  are  collect- 
ing iiere  from  every  part  of  Oregon  to  go  and  fight 
tlie  Indians  in  middle  Oregon  in  consequence  of  the 
massacre  at  Whitman's  Mission.  I  think  there  were 
seventeen  men  killed  at  the  massacre,  but  no  women 
or  children,  except  Whitman's  wife.  They  killed 
every  white  man  there  except  one,  and  he  was  an 
Englishman.  They  took  all  the  young  women  for 
wives.  Robbed  them  of  their  clothing  and  everything. 
The  Oregon  government  bought  the  prisoners  at  a 
dear  rate,  and  then  gave  the  Indians  fight.  But  one 
white  man,  I  believe,  was  killed  in  the  war  and  not 
many  Indians.    The  murderers  escaped. 

January  21.     Warm  and  dry. 

January  24.     Dry  in  daytime  but  rain  at  night. 

January  31.  Rain  all  day.  If  I  could  tell  you  how 
we  suffer  you  would  not  believe  it.  Our  house,  or 
rather  a  shed  joined  to  a  house,  leaks  all  over.  The 
roof  descends  in  such  a  manner  that  the  rain  runs 
right  down  into  the  fire.  I  have  dipped  as  much  as 
six  pails  of  water  off  our  dirt  hearth  in  one  night. 
Here  I  sit  up  night  after  night  with  my  poor  sick  hus- 
band, all  alone,  and  expecting  him  every  day  to  die. 
I  neglected  to  tell  you  that  Welch  moved  away  and 
left  us  all  alone.  Mr.  Smith  has  not  been  moved  off 
his  bed  for  six  weeks,  only  by  lifting  him  by  each 
corner  of  the  sheet,  and  I  had  hard  work  to  get  help 
enough  for  that,  let  alone  to  get  watchers.  I  have 
not  undressed  to  lie  down  for  six  weeks.  Besides 
our  sickness  I  had  a  cross  little  babe  to  take  care  of. 
Indeed,  I  cannot  tell  you  half. 

February  i.  Rain  all  day.  This  day  my  dear  hus- 
band, my  last  remaining  friend,  died. 

February  2.  To-day  we  buried  my  earthly  com- 
panion. Now  I  know  what  none  but  widows  know : 
that  is,  how  comfortless  is  a  widow's  life ;  especially 
when  left  in  a  strange  land  without  money  or  friends, 
and  the  care  of  seven  children. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  149 

February  9.  Clear  and  cool.  Perhaps  you  will  want 
to  know  how  cool.  We  have  lived  all  winter  in  a 
shed  constructed  by  setting  up  studs  five  feet  high 
on  the  lowest  side.  The  other  side  joins  the  cabin. 
It  is  boarded  up  with  clapboards  and  several  of  them 
are  torn  off  in  places,  and  there  is  no  shutter  to  our 
door;  but  if  it  was  not  for  the  rain  putting  out  the  fire 
and  leaking  all  over  the  house  we  would  be  com- 
fortable. 

February  21.  Clear  and  cool.  You  will  w^onder 
that  we  do  not  leave  this  starved  place.  The  reason 
is  this — the  road  from  here  to  the  country  is  im- 
passable in  winter,  the  distance  being  twelve  miles, 
and  because  our  cattle  are  yet  very  weak. 

February  24.  Clear  and  warm.  To-day  we  left 
Portland  at  sunrise.  Having  no  one  to  assist  us,  we 
had  to  leave  one  wagon  and  a  part  of  our  things  for 
want  of  teams.  We  traveled  four  or  five  miles,  all 
the  way  up  hill  and  through  the  thickest  woods  I 
ever  saw — all  fir,  from  two  to  six  feet  through,  with 
now  and  then  a  scattering  cedar,  and  an  intolerably 
bad  road.  We  all  had  to  walk.  Sometimes  I  had  to 
put  my  babe  on  the  ground  and  help  to  keep  the  wagon 
from  turning  over.  When  we  got  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain  we  descended  through  mud  up  to  the  wagon- 
hubs  and  over  logs  two  feet  through,  and  log  bridges 
torn  to  pieces  in  the  mud.  Sometimes  I  would  be  be- 
hind, out  of  sight  of  the  wagon,  tugging  and  carrying 
my  little  ones  along.  Sometimes  the  boys  would  stop 
the  teams  and  come  back  after  us.  Made  nine  miles. 
Camped  in  thick  woods.  Found  some  grass.  Un- 
hitched the  oxen ;  let  them  feed  two  hours  and  chained 
them  to  trees.  These  woods  are  infested  with  wild- 
cats, panthers,  bears  and  wolves.  A  man  told  me  he 
had  killed  six  tigers — but  they  are  a  species  of  wolf. 
We  made  us  a  fire  and  made  a  bed  down  on  the  wet 
grass  and  laid  down  as  happy  as  circumstances  would 
admit.  Glad  to  think  we  had  escaped  from  Port- 
land— such   a   game   place. 

This  was  the  last  record  of  Mrs.  Smith's  diary — a 
story  of  deprivation,  hardships,  hunger,  danger,  destitu- 
tion and  even  death — perhaps  more  harrowing  in  its  de- 


I50  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

tails  than  that  of  the  average  family  who  made  the  two- 
thousand-mile  trip  to  Oregon  in  the  '40's.  And  yet  there 
were  thousands  who  brought  upon  themselves  the  same 
awful  difliculties — leaving  their  lifelong  friends,  aban- 
doning their  native  country  where  plenty  abounded  and 
where  there  were  millions  of  acres  of  vacant  land  yet 
to  be  had — all  for  the  love  of  adventure.  This  accounts 
for  the  fact,  accepted  by  everybody  who  understands 
early  conditions  here,  that  the  Oregon  pioneers,  men  and 
women,  were  of  the  stuff  which  develops  into  a  sturdy 
citizenship. 

The  reading  of  the  diary  of  Mrs.  Smith,  penned  as 
she  wended  her  way  to  Oregon  in  the  summer  of  1847, 
cannot  fail  to  impress  the  average  reader  with  the  strik- 
ing contrast  between  the  manner  of  journeying  from  the 
Mississippi  Valley  to  Oregon  then  and  now.  The  man 
who  makes  the  trip  now  is  usually  a  tourist.  He  buys  a 
sleeper  at  Chicago,  and  within  three  days  is  in  Portland, 
a  city  of  over  two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  where 
Mrs.  Smith  found  upon  her  arrival  one  brick  building, 
tw^o  white  houses  and  a  few  log  cabins.  Instead  of  living 
on  beef  alone  for  several  days,  the  tourist  is  supplied 
three  times  a  day  on  a  "diner"  with  the  best  the  land 
affords,  while  a  colored  waiter  bows  and  smiles — pro- 
vided on  some  previous  occasion  he  has  not  failed  to 
tip  him  generously — and  for  this  he  pays  at  least  a  whole 
dollar  in  the  coin  of  the  realm.  There  is  no  opportunity 
for  him  to  trade  his  shirt  for  a  peck  of  potatoes.  After 
his  meal  is  served,  he  returns  to  his  upholstered  seat  and 
resumes  the  reading  of  his  favorite  book.  While  enjoy- 
ing his  steak  and  coffee  he  travels  as  far,  in  the  utmost 
comfort,  as  Mrs.  Smith  did  in  any  of  the  days  at  the 
end  of  which  she  recorded  "made  eighteen  miles"  in 
suffocating  dust,  and  much  of  the  time  with  insufficient 
food.  At  a  station  the  train  stops  for  a  few  minutes. 
The  traveler  drops  his  book,  steps  out  on  the  platform 
and.  with  a  yawn,  says  to  his  companion:  "What  a 
tedious  trip!    Let  us  take  a  turn  or  two  and  stretch  our 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  151 

legs.    And  they  say  we  will  get  into  Portland  two  hours 
late.    Blast  these  railroads,  anyway !" 

On  September  2,  1850,  two  years  and  a  half  after  the 
last  entry  in  her  diary,  which  I  have  quoted,  Mrs.  Smith 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  same  two  women  friends  in  Indiana, 
in  the  course  of  which  occurs  this  paragraph  : 

My  three  boys  started  to  the  California  gold  mines 
and  it  was  doubtful  to  me  if  I  ever  should  see  them 
again.  Perhaps  you  will  think  it  strange  that  I  let  such 
young  boys  go  so  far,  but  I  was  willing  and  I  helped 
them  off  in  as  good  style  as  I  could.  Well,  after  the 
boys  were  gone,  it  is  true  I  had  plenty  of  cows  and 
hogs,  and  plenty  of  wheat  to  feed  them  on  and  to  make 
my  bread.  Indeed,  I  was  well  off,  if  I  had  only  known 
it,  but  I  lived  in  a  remote  place  where  my  strength 
was  of  little  use  to  me.  I  could  get  nothing  to  do, 
and  you  know  I  could  not  live  without  work.  I  em- 
ployed myself  in  teaching  my  children  ;  yet  that  did  not 
fully  occupy  my  mind.  I  became  as  poor  as  a  snake, 
yet  I  was  in  good  health  and  was  never  so  nimble 
since  I  was  a  child.  I  could  run  half  a  mile  without 
stopping  to  breathe.  Well,  I  thought  I  would  try  my 
fortune  again,  so  on  the  24th  of  June,  1849,  I  was 
married  to  Mr.  Joseph  Geer,  a  man  fourteen  years 
older  than  myself,  though  young  enough  for  me.  He 
is  the  father  of  ten  children.  They  are  all  married 
but  two  boys  and  two  girls.  He  is  a  Yankee  from 
Connecticut,  and  he  is  a  Yankee  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  as  I  told  you  he  would  be  if  it  ever  proved  my 
lot  to  marry  again.  I  did  not  marry  rich,  but  my  hus- 
band is  industrious  and  is  as  kind  to  me  as  I  can  ask. 
Indeed,  he  sometimes  provokes  me  in  trying  to  humor 
me  so  much.  He  is  a  stout,  healthy  man  for  one  of 
his  age. 

Since  the  "Yankee  husband"  referred  to  was  my 
grandfather,  before  mentioned  in  these  pages,  it  will  be 
appropriate  to  close  this  chapter  by  quoting  a  part  of  the 
postscript  to  the  above  letter,  which  was  written  by  him : 


152  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Dear  Ladies  : 

As  Mrs.  Geer  has  introduced  me  to  you  as  her  "old 
Yankee  husband,"  I  will  add  a  few  words  in  hopes  of 
becoming  better  acquainted  hereafter.  She  so  often 
speaks  of  you  that  you  seem  like  old  neighbors.  She 
has  neglected  to  tell  you  that  she  was  once  the  wife 
of  Cornelius  Smith.  She  has  told  you  how  poor  she 
became  while  a  widow  but  has  not  said  one  word  about 
how  fat  she  has  become  since  she  has  been  living  with 
her  Yankee  husband.  This  is  perhaps  reserved  for 
her  next  epistle  so  I  will  say  nothing  about  it. 

Of  her  I  will  say  she  makes  me  a  first-rate  wife, 
industrious  and  kind  almost  to  a  fault  to  me,  a  fault, 
however,  that  I  can  cheerfully  overlook,  you  know. 

We  are  not  rich,  but  independent,  and  live  agree- 
ably together,  which  is  enough.  We  are  located  on 
the  west  bank  of  the  Willamette  River,  about  twenty 
miles  from  Oregon  City,  about  forty  yards  from  the 
water — a  very  pleasant  situation.  I  intend  putting  out 
a  large  orchard  as  soon  as  I  can  prepare  the  ground ; 
have  about  ten  thousand  apple  trees  and  two  hun- 
dred pear  trees  on  hand.  Apple  trees  worth  one 
dollar  and  pears  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  apiece. 
I  have  not  room  to  give  you  a  description  of  this,  the 
best  country  in  the  world,  so  I  will  not  attempt  it, 
but  if  you  will  answer  this  I  will  give  you  a  more 
particular  account  next  time. 

Yours  respectfully, 

Joseph  C.  Geer,  Sen. 


CHAPTER  XX 

If  left  to  the  people  of  Oregon  to  decide  by  popular 
vote  which  of  its  citizens,  past  or  present,  stands  first 
in  the  general  esteem,  because  of  the  value  of  his  public 
services  and  the  impression  he  has  made  or  left  upon  the 
commonwealth,  I  have  no  doubt  that  George  H.  Williams 
would  receive  the  highest  endorsement  and  James  W. 
Nesmith  would  stand  only  second.  Of  these  two  great 
men  I  will  speak  more  at  length  later,  but  will  remark 
now  that  in  my  judgment  Nesmith  should  outrank  Wil- 
liams for  one  reason — that  he  came  here  ten  years  before 
Williams  and  that  he  came  without  friends  or  money,  a 
rugged,  ambitious  young  pioneer,  embarking  upon  a 
hazardous  journey  to  a  distant  land  about  which  little 
was  known,  though  that  little  was  extremely  favorable. 

On  the  contrary.  Williams,  Oregon's  "grand  old  man," 
of  towering  intellect  and  in  disposition  as  gentle  as  a 
child,  arrived  here  in  1853,  when  the  country  was  fairly 
well  occupied,  with  a  commission  from  President  Pierce 
as  one  of  the  associate  judges  for  the  new  Territory. 

I  desire  to  refer  to  Nesmith  here  for  the  purpose  of 
quoting  briefly  from  an  address  he  delivered  before  the 
Oregon  Pioneer  Association  in  1876.  in  the  course  of 
which  he  graphically  described  the  manner  in  which  a 
company  of  immigrants  came  together  from  different 
parts  of  the  country,  organized  by  the  election  of  a 
captain  and  other  officers,  and  proceeded  upon  the  great 
undertaking : 

As  early  as  the  year  1840,  being  then  an  adven- 
turous youth  in  what  at  that  time  was  known  as  the 
"Far  West,"  I  had  heard  of  Oregon  as  a  "terra  in- 
cognita" somewhere  upon  the  western  slope  of  the 
continent,  as  a  country  to  which  the  United  States 
had  some  kind  of  a  claim,  and 

153 


154  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 


"Where  rolls  the  Oregon  and  hears  no  sound 
Save  its  own  dashings." 

During  the  winter  of  1841-42,  being  in  Jefferson 
County,  Jowa,  I  incidentally  heard  that  a  company  in- 
tended leaving  Independence,  Mo.,  in  May  or  June. 
1842,  for  Oregon  under  the  leadership  of  Dr.  Elijah 
White,  wdio  had  formerly  been  in  Oregon  connected 
with  the  Methodist  missions,  and  who  was  then  about 
returning  to  the  Territory  in  the  service  of  the  United 
States  Government  as  sub-Indian  agent.  Thinking 
this  a  good  opportunity  to  make  the  trip  I  had  for 
some  time  contemplated.  I  mounted  my  horse  and 
rode  across  western  Iowa,  then  a  wilderness,  and 
arrived  at  Independence  seventeen  days  after  White 
and  his  party  had  left.  I  at  first  contemplated  fol- 
lowing them  alone,  but  learning  that  I  would  be  lia- 
ble to  encounter  the  murderous  Pawnees  determined 
not  to  attempt  the  dangerous  experiment.  I  there- 
fore abandoned  the  trip  for  the  time  and  spent  the  most 
of  the  ensuing  year  in  the  employment  of  the  Govern- 
ment as  a  carpenter  in  the  construction  of  Fort  Scott, 
in  Kansas,  about  one  himdred  miles  south  of  Inde- 
pendence. 

During  the  winter  of  1842-43,  Dr.  Marcus  Whitman, 
then  a  missionary  in  the  Walla  Walla  valley,  visited 
Washington  to  intercede  in  behalf  of  the  American 
interests  on  the  coast. 

Dr.  Lewis  F.  Linn,  who  was  then  in  the  United 
States  Senate  from  Missouri,  took  a  great  interest 
in  the  settlement  of  Oregon.  The  means  for  the  trans- 
mission of  news  at  that  time  was  slow  and  meager 
upon  the  frontier,  it  being  before  the  days  of  rail- 
roads, telegraphs  and  postage  stamps.  But  the 
Oregon  question,  through  the  medium  of  Senators 
Linn  and  Benton  and  Dr.  Whitman,  did  create  a  cer- 
tain commotion  in  Washington,  and  enough  of  it  found 
its  way  to  the  "Far  West"  to  make  some  stir  among 
the  ever  restless  and  adventurous  frontiersman.  With- 
out any  formal  promulgation  it  became  understood — 
and  was  so  published  in  the  few  border  papers  then 
in  existence — that  our  emigration  party  would  rendez- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  155 

vous  at  Independence  to  start  for  Oregon  as  soon  as 
the  grass  offered  subsistence  to  the  stock. 

Without  orders  from  any  quarter,  and  without  pre- 
concerted action,  promptly  as  the  grass  started  the  emi- 
grants began  to  assemble  at  Independence  at  a  place 
called  Fitzhugh's  Mill.  On  May  17,  1843,  notices  were 
circulated  through  the  different  encampments  that  on 
the  following  day  those  contemplating  emigrating  to 
Oregon  would  meet  at  a  designated  point  to  organize. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  hour  the  motley  group 
assembled.  It  consisted  of  people  from  all  the  States 
and  Territories,  embracing  all  nationalities.  Most  of 
them,  however,  were  from  Missouri,  Iowa,  Illinois  and 
Arkansas — all  strangers  to  one  another,  but  deeply 
impressed  with  the  imperative  necessity  for  mutual 
protection  against  the  hostile  Indians  inhabiting  the 
great  unknown  wilderness,  stretching  away  to  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific,  which  they  were  about  to 
traverse  with  their  wives,  children,  household  goods 
and  all  their  earthly  possessions. 

Many  of  the  emigrants  were  from  the  western  tier 
of  counties  in  Missouri  known  as  the  Platte  Purchase, 
and  among  them  was  Peter  H.  Burnett,  a  former  mer- 
chant, who  had  abandoned  the  yardstick  and  become 
a  lawyer  of  some  celebrity,  being  noted  for  his  ability 
as  a  smooth-tongued  advocate.  He  subsequently  emi- 
grated to  the  Golden  State  and  became  its  first  Gov- 
ernor, was  afterward  its  Chief  Justice,  and  is  still 
an  honored  citizen  of  that  State.  Mr.  Burnett,  or, 
as  he  was  familiarly  called,  "Pete,"  was  called  on  for 
a  speech.  Mounting  a  log,  the  glib-tongued  orator  de- 
livered a  florid,  glowing  address.  He  commenced  by 
showing  his  audience  that  the  then  western  tier  of 
States  and  Territories  was  overcrowded ;  that  the 
population  had  not  sufficient  elbow-room  for  the  ex- 
pansion of  their  genius  and  enterprise,  and  that  it  was 
a  duty  they  owed  to  themselves  and  their  posterity  to 
strike  out  in  search  of  a  wider  field  and  a  more  genial 
climate,  where  the  soil  yielded  the  richest  return  for 
the  smallest  amount  of  cultivation,  where  the  trees 
were  loaded  with  perennial  fruit  and  where  a  good 
substitute  for  bread,  called  "lacamash,"  grew  in  the 
ground,  salmon  and  other  fish  crowded  the  streams, 


156  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

and  where  the  principal  labor  of  the  settler  would  be 
keeping  his  gardens  free  from  the  inroads  of  elk,  buf- 
falo, deer  and  wild  turkeys.  He  appealed  to  our 
patriotism  by  picturing  forth  the  glorious  empire  we 
would  establish  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacihc ;  how, 
with  our  trusty  rifles,  we  would  drive  out  the  British 
usurpers  who  claimed  the  soil  and  defend  the  country 
from  the  avarice  and  pretensions  of  the  British  lion, 
and  how  posterity  would  honor  us  for  placing  the 
fairest  portion  of  our  land  under  the  dominion  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  He  concluded  with  a  slight  allusion 
to  the  trials  and  hardships  incident  to  the  trip  and 
the  dangers  to  be  encountered  from  hostile  Indians  on 
the  way,  and  also  those  inhabiting  the  country  whither 
we  were  bound.  He  furthermore  indicated  a  desire 
to  look  upon  the  tribe  of  noble  "red  men"  that  the 
valiant  and  well-armed  crowd  around  him  could  not 
vanquish  in  a  single  encounter. 

Other  speeches  were  made,  full  of  glowing  descrip- 
tions of  the  fair  land  of  promise,  far-away  Oregon, 
which  no  one  in  the  assemblage  had  ever  seen  and  of 
which  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  had  ever  read  any 
account.  After  the  election  of  officers,  Mr.  Burnett 
being  selected  captain,  the  meeting,  as  primitive  and 
motley  a  one  as  ever  assembled,  adjourned  with  three 
cheers  for  Captain  Burnett  and  Oregon. 

On  May  20,  1843,  after  a  pretty  thorough  military 
organization,  we  took  up  our  line  of  march  with  Cap- 
tain John  Gannt,  an  old  army  officer  who  combined 
the  character  of  trapper  and  mountaineer,  as  our  ,Q"uide. 
Gannt  had  been  as  far  in  his  wanderings  as  Green 
River  and  assured  us  of  the  practicability  of  the  wagon 
road  that  far.  Green  River,  the  ])oundary  of  our 
guide's  knowledge  in  that  direction,  was  not  half- 
way to  the  Willamette  valley,  at  that  time  the  only 
inhabited  portion  of  Oregon.  We  went  forth  trust- 
ing to  the  future  and  would  doubtless  have  encoun- 
tered more  difficulties  than  we  did  had  not  Dr.  Whit- 
man overtaken  us  before  we  reached  Green  River. 
He  was  familiar  with  the  whole  route  and  was  con- 
fident that  wagons  could  pass  through  the  canyons 
and  gorges  of  Snake  River  and  over  the  Blue  Moun- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  157 

tains,  which  the  mountaineers  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort 
Hall  declared  to  be  a  physical  impossibility. 

Describing  his  experience  upon  his  arrival  in  Oregon, 
Colonel  Nesmith  says : 

With  three  comrades  I  left  the  emigration  on  the 
Umatilla  River,  at  a  point  near  the  present  agency, 
and  after  a  variety  of  adventures  we  arrived  in  a 
canoe  at  Fort  \'ancouver  on  the  evening  of  October 
23,  1843.  ^^^  encamped  on  the  bank  of  the  river 
about  where  the  Government  wharf  now  stands.  The 
greater  part  of  our  means  was  spent  in  the  purchase 
of  provisions  and  hickory  shirts,  consigning  those  that 
had  done  such  long  and  continuous  service,  with  their 
inhabitants,  to  the  Columbia.  On  the  morning  of  the 
24th  we  started  for  what  was  known  as  the  "Wil- 
lamette" settlement  at  tiie  Falls. 

Dr.  McLoughlin  had  told  us  that  at  a  distance  of 
seven  miles  below  the  fort  we  would  encounter  the 
waters  of  the  Willamette  entering  the  Columbia  from 
the  south.  At  about  the  distance  indicated  by  the 
Doctor  we  reached  what  we  supposed  was  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  and  after  paddling  up  it  until  noon,  looked 
across,  and  to  our  astonishment  saw  Fort  Vancouver. 
It  then  flashed  on  our  minds  that  we  had  circumnavi- 
gated the  island  opposite  the  fort.  We  retraced  our 
way  and  that  evening  discovered  the  mouth  of  the 
Willamette  and  encamped  on  its  banks.  The  next 
evening  we  encamped  on  the  prairie  opposite  Portland 
upon  what  is  now  the  town  site  of  East  Portland, 
owned  by  James  Stephens,  Esq.  The  present  site  of 
Portland  was  a  solitude  surrounded  by  a  dense  forest 
of  fir  trees. 

The  following  amusing  incident  which  illustrates  the 
troubles  of  the  early  settlers  in  endeavoring  to  understand 
the  language  and  gestures  of  the  Indians,  is  related  in 
this  same  address.  It  well  illustrates  the  clumsy  effort 
of  the  Indian  to  convey  his  meaning  to  one  who  does  not 
understand  his  language,  and  the  humorous  manner  of 
telling  it  is  characteristic  of  Nesmith. 

At  Fort   Hall   we   fell   in   with   some   Cayuse  and 


158  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Kez  Perce  Indians  returning  from  the  buffalo  country, 
and  as  it  was  necessary  for  Dr.  Whitman  to  precede  us 
to  Walla  Walla,  he  recommended  to  us  a  guide  in  the 
person  of  an  old  Cayuse  Indian  called  "Sticcus."  He 
was  a  faithful  old  fellow,  perfectly  familiar  with  all 
the  trails  and  topography  of  the  country  from  Fort 
Hall  to  The  Dalles,  and  although  he  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  English,  and  no  one  in  our  party  a  word  of 
Cayuse,  he  succeeded  by  pantomine  in  leading  us  suc- 
cessfully over  the  roughest  wagon  road  I  ever  saw. 
Sticcus  was  a  member  of  Dr.  \Miitman's  church,  and 
the  only  Indian  I  ever  saw  that  I  thought  had  any  con- 
ception of  the  Christian  religion  or  practiced  it.  I 
met  him  afterward  in  the  Cayuse  war.  He  did  not 
participate  in  the  murder  of  Dr.  Whitman  and  his 
family,  and  remained  neutral  in  the  war  between  his 
tribe  and  the  whites  which  grew  out  of  the  massacre. 
I  once  dined  with  Sticcus  in  his  camp  on  what  I 
supposed  was  elk  meat.  I  had  arrived  at  that  con- 
clusion because,  when  I  looked  at  the  cooked  meat  in- 
terrogatively, the  Indian  held  up  his  hands  in  a  manner 
that  indicated  elk  horns ;  but  after  dinner,  seeing  the 
ears,  tail  and  hoofs  of  a  mule  near  camp  I  became 
satisfied  that  what  he  meant  to  convey  with  his 
pantomine  was  "ears,"  not  "horns."  But  digestion 
waited  on  appetite  and  after  dinner  it  did  not  make 
much  difference  about  the  appendages  of  the  animal 
that  furnished  it. 

.Still  another  "film"  in  the  great  moving  picture  which 
was  presented  to  an  astonished  w^orld  by  the  Oregon 
pioneers  between  1840  and  1852  was  introduced  by 
J.  Ouinn  Thornton  in  an  address  before  the  State  Asso- 
ciation in  1878,  when  he  described  three  events  which 
occurred  in  the  same  camp  on  June  14  of  that  year,  on 
the  Platte  River.     He  says  : 

Three  companies  camped  near  each  other  on  June 
14,  which  was  Sabbath,  and  as  if  by  previous  arrange- 
ment determined  to  spend  the  day  together.  All  the 
members  of  one  of  these  companies  had,  without  much 
ceremony,  been   invited  to  attend  a  wedding  at  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  159 

tent  of  a  Mr.  Lard  in  the  evening.  Rev.  J.  E.  Corn- 
well,  acting  as  the  officiating  minister,  proceeded  at 
once  to  unite  Miss  Lard  and  a  Mr.  Mootry  in  the 
holy  bonds  of  wedlock.  The  bride  was  arrayed  very 
decently  but  rather  gaily.  The  groom  had  on  his 
best.  Some  of  the  young  women  present  were  dressed 
with  a  tolerable  degree  of  taste  and  with  even  some 
degree  of  elegance.  Among  the  men  there  were  no 
long  beards,  dirty  hands,  begrimed  faces,  soiled  linen 
or  torn  garments.  Indeed,  at  that  time  and  place  there 
w^ere  four  others  who  expected  to  be  married  in  a 
few  days.  I  cannot  say  that  I  approved  this  marry- 
ing on  the  road.  It  looked  as  though  the  women,  at 
least,  were  making  a  sort  of  hop,  skip  and  jump  into 
matrimony,  without  knowing  what  their  feet  would 
come  down  upon  or  whether  they  might  not  be  bruised 
and  wounded. 

During  that  afternoon  a  boy's  leg  was  amputated 
by  one  not  a  surgeon,  the  instruments  employed  being 
a  butcher  knife  and  an  old  dull  hand-saw.  He  bore 
his  sufferings  with  the  most  wonderful  fortitude  and 
heroism.  He  seemed  scarcely  to  move  a  muscle.  A 
deathlike  paleness  would  sometimes  cover  his  face, 
but  instead  of  groaning  he  would  use  some  word  of 
encouragement  to  the  almost  shrinking  operator,  or 
some  expression  of  comfort  to  his  afflicted  friends. 
The  limb  was  at  length  severed,  the  arteries  gathered 
and  the  flap  brought  down  in  an  hour  and  forty-five 
minutes  after  making  the  first  incision. 

An  emigrant  who  had  been  frequently  compelled 
to  retire  from  the  afflicting  spectacle,  but  who  at  the 
time  the  operation  was  completed  held  the  boy's  hands 
in  his,  observing  that  he  appeared  much  exhausted, 
tenderly  inquired  if  he  suffered  much  pain.  The  boy 
withdrew  his  hands,  clasped  them  together,  and  par- 
tially raising  them,  exclaimed :  "Oh,  yes,  I  am  suf- 
fering! I  am  suffering  so  much!"  His  hands  fell  on 
his  breast,  his  white  lips  quivered  a  few  moments,  his 
eyeballs  rolled  back,  and  his  spirit  went  to  God.  He 
was  buried  in  the  night,  and  the  sad  and  silent  pro- 
cession, by  the  light  of  the  torches  to  the  lonely  grave 
so  hastily  dug  in  the  solitude  and  almost  unbroken 


i6o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

silence  of  that  far-away  wilderness,  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  wedding  festivities  at  the  neighbor- 
ing tent. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  that  same  evening  an- 
other interesting  event  transpired — the  birth  of  a 
child  on  the  same  plain — so  that  the  three  great  epochs 
of  life,  birth,  marriage  and  death,  were  all  repre- 
sented at  nearly  the  same  time  and  place. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Oregon  undoubtedly  bears  the  distinction  of  being  the 
only  State  in  the  Union  whose  people  formed  a  provisional 
government  in  advance  of  territorial  organization  au 
thorized  by  act  of  Congress.  The  first  settlers  were  in 
a  country  which  was  without  a  successful  claimant,  and 
for  a  few  years  were  too  few  in  numbers  to  need  or 
maintain  any  kind  of  government.  It  was  everybody 
for  himself,  indeed,  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  land 
to  steal;  and  the  only  ''settlement"  extended  from  the 
Columbia  River  to  the  California  line  and  consisted  of 
not  more  than  a  couple  of  hundred  white  people. 

The  first  meeting  of  a  public  nature  was  held  in  Feb- 
ruary. 1841,  for  the  purpose  of  determining  on  some 
means  of  protection  against  the  depredations  of  wild 
animals,  w^hich  were  destroying  the  few  hogs  and  calves 
with  which  the  people  were  beginning  to  be  blessed. 
Several  such  were  called  that  year  and  the  next,  with 
this  object  in  view  ostensibly;  but  a  feeling  began  to 
develop  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  the  Americans  to 
take  the  initiative  in  organizing  a  local  government  whose 
scope  would  not  be  confined  to  the  destruction  of  the 
wolves,  but  would  include  a  movement  toward  the  con- 
trol of  affairs  and  the  counteracting  of  the  hostile  in- 
fluence of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  The  company  was 
opposed  to  any  kind  of  government — preferring  the  un- 
broken wilderness,  fur-bearing  animals  in  increasing" 
numbers  if  possible,  and  no  legal  restraint  whatever.  It 
was  really  a  case  where  they  did  not  need  any  govern- 
ment in  their  business. 

But  the  Americans,  coming  from  the  centers  of  civiliza- 
tion, began  to  be  clamorous  for  some  regularly  constituted 
authority  to  which  they  might  appeal  in  case  something 
should  happen.     Not  only  this,  but  the   fair  historian 

161 


i62  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

will  be  compelled  to  admit  that  at  even  that  early  date 
there  was  a  well-defined  feeling  among  the  Americans 
that  it  was  necessary  to  begin  a  movement  whose  ultimate 
results  would  be  the  acquisition  of  the  entire  country  by 
the  United  States.  For  they  were  men  whose  attachment 
to  Old  Glory  was  firm  as  the  foundations  of  the  earth, 
and  they  were  not  willing  to  lose  any  tricks  through  un- 
necessary delay  or  a])parent  indifference.  Many  other- 
wise unimportant  circumstances  combined  to  awaken  the 
suspicions  of  the  settlers,  who  were  men  of  pluck  and 
determination. 

A  few  thefts  began  to  take  place  in  the  growing  com- 
munity and  there  was  no  lawful  redress.  Men  of  reck- 
less character,  and  of  no  character,  were  by  degrees 
drawn  hither  by  reason  of  the  anomalous  situation,  and 
the  Indians  were  always  to  l)e  closely  watched.  In  the 
fall  of  1842  the  house  of  a  minister  living  on  Tualitan 
Plains  was  entered  and  provisions  and  clothing  taken. 
This  was  a  new  experience  and  the  neighbors  took  the 
matter  in  hand  in  an  effort  to  detect  the  thief.  A  com- 
mittee was  formed,  consisting  of  Rev.  J.  S.  Griffin, 
Robert  Newell,  Joseph  L.  Meek  and  Caleb  Wilkins, 
whose  purpose  was  to  ferret  out  the  culprit,  if  possible, 
and  to  administer  such  punishment  as  the  case  seemed  to 
require. 

In  a  few  days  an  Indian  came  to  the  house  of  one  of 
the  members  of  this  committee  and  seemed  to  be  very 
anxious  to  ascertain  whom  the  whites  suspected.  His 
unnatural  interest  in  the  affair  arousing  the  suspicion 
of  the  committeeman,  he  pursued  such  a  line  of  inquiry 
that  it  proved  a  veritable  sweat-box — though  it  was  not 
called  by  that  name  in  those  days. 

The  result  was  that  he  was  detained,  tried  and  ad- 
judged guilty.  He  confessed,  was  tied  up  to  an  oak  tree, 
treated  to  five  lashes  at  the  hands  of  each  of  the  judges 
and  dismissed.  The  affair  caused  a  great  deal  of  dis- 
cussion and  served  to  impress  more  forcibly  upon  the 
settlers  that  the  prevailing  conditions  were  not  only 
unsatisfactory,  but  dangerous,  for  the  Indians,  especially. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  163 

appeared  to  understand  the  disorganized  state  of  the 
colony  and  translated  it  into  license — a  proceeding 
altogether  in  harmony  with  their  desires. 

At  this  time  Dr.  Elijah  White  drafted  and  promulgated 
a  code  of  "laws"  which  was  intended  to  govern  the 
Indians  in  their  relations  with  the  settlers.  It  was  called 
the  "White  Code,"  consisted  of  eleven  articles  and  was 
as  follows : 

Article  i.     Whoever  wilfully  takes  a  life  shall  be 
hung. 

Art.  2.     Whoever  burns  a  dwelline-house  shall  be 


'& 


hung. 

Art.  3.  Whoever  burns  an  outbuilding  shall  be 
imprisoned  six  months,  receive  fifty  lashes  and  pay 
all   damages. 

Art.  4.  Whoever  carelessly  burns  a  house  or  any 
property  shall  pay  damages. 

Art.  5.  If  any  one  enters  a  house  without  the  per- 
mission of  the  owner  the  chiefs  shall  punish  him  as 
they  think  prgper.     Public  rooms  are  excepted. 

Art.  6.  If  any  one  steal,  he  shall  pay  back  twofold. 
And  if  it  be  of  the  value  of  a  beaver  skin,  or  less, 
he  shall  receive  twenty-five  lashes ;  and  if  the  value 
is  over  a  beaver  skin,  he  shall  pay  back  twofold  and 
receive  fifty  lashes. 

Art.  7.  If  any  one  take  a  horse  and  ride  it  without 
permission,  or  take  any  article  and  use  it  without 
liberty,  he  shall  pay  for  the  use  of  it  and  receive 
from  twenty-five  to  fifty  lashes,  as  the  chiefs  shall 
direct. 

Art.  8.  If  any  one  enter  a  field  and  injure  the  crops, 
or  throw  down  the  fence  so  that  cattle  or  horses  enter 
and  do  damage,  he  shall  pay  all  damage  and  receive 
twenty-five  lashes  for  every  ofifense. 

Art.  9.  Those  only  may  keep  dogs  who  travel  or 
live  among  game.  If  a  dog  kill  a  lamb,  calf  or  any 
domestic  animal,  the  owner  shall  pay  the  damage  and 
kill  the  dog. 

Art.  10.  If  any  Indian  raise  a  gun  or  other  weapon 
against  a  white  man,  it  shall  be  reported  to  the  chiefs 
and  they  shall  punish  him.     If  a  white  man  do  the 


1 64  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

same  to  an  Indian,  it  shall  be  reported  to  Dr.  White, 
and  he  shall  punish  or  redress. 

Art.  II.  If  an  Indian  break  these  laws  he  shall  be 
punished  by  the  chiefs,  and  if  a  white  man  break  them 
he  shall  be  reported  to  Dr.  White  and  he  shall  punish 
or  redress. 

But  on  February  2.  1842,  a  meeting  was  held  at  the 
Institute,  in  Salem,  for  the  purpose  of  "taking  into  con- 
sideration the  propriety  of  adopting  some  measures  for 
the  protection  of  our  herds."  etc.  This  is  known  in 
Oregon  history  as  the  "Wolf  Meeting,"  and  was  presided 
over  by  Dr.  I.  L.  Babcock.  the  secretary  being  W.  H. 
Willson.  After  considering  the  purposes  of  the  meeting, 
it  appointed  a  committee  consisting  of  William  H.  Gray, 
Alanson  Beers.  Joseph  Gervais.  William  H.  Willson.  G. 
W.  Bellamy  and  Etienne  Lucier,  who  were  instructed  to 
make  arrangements  for  an  adjourned  meeting  to  be  held 
on  March  4  at  the  house  of  Joseph  Gervais,  on  French 
Prairie.  Mr.  Gervais  w-as  practically  the  first  wliite 
settler  in  that  part  of  the  Willamette  valley,  having  been 
induced  to  locate  there  by  Dr.  McLoughlin,  to  raise 
wheat  for  the  Russian  trade. 

At  this  meeting  the  committee  appointed  on  February 
2  made  the  following  report,  which  w'ill  give  the  student 
of  early  Oregon  history  a  clear  insight  into  the  primitive 
condition  of  affairs  and  what  the  people  were  compelled 
to  accQpt  as  an  unavoidable  duty.  The  report,  which 
was  in  reality  the  germ  that  produced  the  succeeding 
governments,  provisional,  territorial  and  State,  w^as  as 
follows : 

It  being  admitted  by  all  that  bears,  panthers,  wolves, 
etc.,  are  destructive  to  useful  animals  owned  by  the 
settlers  of  this  colony,  your  committee  would  respect- 
fully submit  the  following  resolutions  as  the  sense  of 
this  meeting,  by  which  the  community  may  be  gov- 
erned in  carrying  on  a  defensive  and  destructive  war 
against  all  such  animals.     Resolved. 

I.  That  we  deem  it  expedient  for  this  community  to 
take   immediate   measures   for  the   destruction   of  all 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  165 

bears,  wolves,  panthers  and  such  other  animals  as  are 
known  to  be  destructive  to  horses,  cattle,  hogs  and 
sheep. 

2.  Tliat  a  treasurer  shall  be  appointed  who  shall  re- 
ceive and  disburse  all  funds  in  accordance  with  drafts 
drawn  on  him  by  the  committee  appointed  to  receive 
the  evidences  of  the  destruction  of  all  such  animals, 
and  that  he  report  the  state  of  the  treasury  by  posting 
up  public  notices  once  every  three  months  in  the 
vicinity  of  each  of  the  committee. 

3.  That  a  standing  committee  of  eight  be  appointed 
whose  duty  it  shall  be,  together  with  the  treasurer,  to 
receive  the  proofs  of  the  evidences  of  the  animals  for 
which  bounties  are  claimed  having  been  killed  in 
the  Willamette  valley. 

4.  That  a  bounty  of  fifty  cents  be  paid  for  the  de- 
struction of  a  small  wolf ;  three  dollars  for  a  large 
wolf ;  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  for  a  lynx ;  two  dol- 
lars for  a  bear  and  five  dollars  for  a  panther. 

5.  That  no  bounty  be  paid  unless  the  individual 
claiming  such  bounty  gives  satisfactory  evidence,  or 
by  presenting  the  skin  of  the  head,  with  the  ears,  of 
all  animals  for  which  he  claims  a  bounty. 

6.  That  the  committee  and  treasurer  form  a  board 
of  advice  to  call  public  meetings  when  deemed  neces- 
sary to  promote  and  encourage  all  persons  to  use  their 
vigilance  in  destroying  all  the  animals  named  in  the 
fourth   resolution. 

7.  That  the  bounties  named  in  the  fourth  resolu- 
tion be  confined  to  whites  and  their  descendants. 

On  motion,  it  was 

Resolved,  That  no  one  receive  a  bounty  (except 
Indians)  unless  he  pay  a  subscription  of  five  dollars. 

It  was  moved  and  seconded  that  the  Indians  receive 
one-half  as  much  as  the  whites. 

It  was  moved  and  seconded  that  all  claims  for 
bounties  be  presented  within  ten  days  from  the  time 
of  becoming  entitled  to  such  bounties,  and  if  there 
should  be  any  doubt,  the  individual  claiming  such 
bounty  shall  give  his  oath  as  to  the  various  circum- 
stances. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  it  was  becoming  apparent  to 


i66  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  settlers  that  the  protection  of  their  own  rights — and 
lives — as  well  as  their  herds,  could  not  be  longer  safely 
postponed,  and  as  the  result  of  this  growing  conviction, 
the  committee  of  twelve,  which  had  been  authorized  to 
call  meetings  relative  to  the  protection  of  the  herds 
against  the  marauding  panthers  and  wolves,  issued  a 
call  for  another  meeting  to  be  held  at  Champoeg  on  May 
2,  in  the  following  year  (1843),  to  "consider  the  pro- 
priety of  taking  measures  for  the  civil  and  military  pro- 
tection of  the  colony." 

This  was.  indeed,  a  bold  step ;  literally  "coming  out 
from  under  cover,"  for  it  was  well  understood  that  any 
attempt  to  organize  any  kind  of  government  would  meet 
with  the  bitter  hostility  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company, 
w^hose  control  of  the  country  for  thirty  years  had  been 
undisputed. 

Rut  changing  conditions  were  pressing  for  action. 
Civilization  was  calling  for  recognition,  and  men  and 
women  who  were  accustomed  to  law  and  order  were  not 
to  be  balked  in  their  purposes.  There  was  a  deep  dissatis- 
faction with  the  unsettled  conditions  which  manifested 
itself  constantly,  and  in  the  light  of  ensuing  events, 
which  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession,  there 
is  no  difficulty  in  understanding  the  impossibility  of 
stilling  the  demand  for  the  installation  of  a  dependable 
government. 

During  all  these  manifestations  of  an  unmistakable 
drift  toward  an  emancipation  from  existing  conditions 
there  was  one  man  who  was  placed  in  a  very  awkward 
and  unenviable  situation — Dr.  John  McLoughlin.  Chief 
Factor  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  and  absolute  Gov- 
ernor of  the  Northwest  Territory.  Indeed,  he  was 
virtually  its  dictator,  and  had  been  for  thirty  years.  The 
London  stockholders  of  the  company  had  given  him  a 
free  rein  and  all  the  report  they  cared  for  was  that  which 
yielded  enormous  quantities  of  furs. 

But,  fortunately  for  the  early  American  immigrants,  the 
Doctor,  himself  a  giant  physically,  was  as  big  of  heart  as 
of  stature.     In  the  situation  by  which  he  was  confronted 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  167 

his  sympathies  outran  his  subserviency  to  the  company 
which  was  paying  him  a  princely  salary,  and  when  he 
saw  an  American  immigrant  and  his  family  in  need  of 
either  food  or  clothing,  he  contributed  liberally  from  his 
stores.  He  thus  indirectly  aided  in  the  colonization  of 
the  Oregon  Country  by  the  Americans,  which  meant  the 
ruin  of  his  own  business,  the  extent  and  value  of  which 
can  never  be  properly  estimated.  For  this  he  was  never 
reimbursed  in  any  sense  of  the  word. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

The  necessity  for  a  government  of  some  character 
among  the  early  Oregon  pioneers,  which  had  been  taking 
form  by  degrees  ever  since  the  arrival  of  the  "Great 
Reenforcement"  to  the  Methodist  missionaries  in  1840, 
was  emphasized  the  next  year  by  the  death  of  Ewing 
Young,  who  came  here  with  Hall  J.  Kelley,  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages,  in  the  fall  of  1834.  Young's 
death  was,  in  reality,  the  special  event  which  stimulated 
the  settlers  to  speedy  action,  since  he  was  a  man  of 
considerable  means,  of  no  family  (as  was  supposed), 
and  the  condition  was  presented  to  the  settlers  of  a 
valuable  estate  without  an  owner  or  any  one  possessing 
legal  claim  to  any  part  of  it.  It  was  a  very  awkward 
condition,  since  his  property  consisted  of  many  horses 
and  cattle  as  well  as  desirable  land.  N^o  person  had  any 
right  to  move  in  the  matter ;  there  was  no  law  to  govern 
the  situation,  and  yet  some  action  must  be  taken. 

Ewing  Young,  who  occupied  so  prominent  a  position  in 
our  early  history,  principally,  and  singularly  enough,  by 
reason  of  his  death,  was  born  in  Knox  County,  Tennessee, 
but  the  year  of  his  birth  seems  not  to  be  known.  When  a 
comparatively  young  man.  however,  he  was  in  California. 
He  left  the  Spanish  settlement  there  in  the  summer  of 
1834  for  Oregon,  bringing  with  him  a  large  number  of 
Spanish  horses — mostly  mares.  He  had  heard  of  the 
wonderful  fertility  of  the  land  here  and  the  boundless 
range  the  country  afforded  for  grazing.  He  settled  on 
the  west  bank  of  the  Willamette  River,  opposite  Cham- 
poeg,  about  twenty  miles  south  of  Portland.  There  he 
built  the  first  house  ever  erected  on  the  west  side  of 
the  river. 

The  difficulty  with  which  he  was  confronted  soon 
after  his  arri\-al,  in  the  form  of  a  notification  sent  to 
Dr.  McLoughlin  by  the  Spanish  Governor  of  California 

168 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  169 

that  Young  and  Kelley  had  stolen  a  large  part  of  their 
horses,  has  already  been  mentioned,  and  the  fact  ex- 
plained that  the  report  had  no  truthful  foundation.  Sub- 
sequently the  California  Governor  acknowledged  his 
error  and  duly  apologized  for  it. 

In  the  spring  of  1836  Young,  concluding  that  there 
was  more  money  to  be  made  in  the  distillery  business 
than  in  the  slow  process  of  raising  and  selling  Spanish 
horses,  began  preparations  for  the  manufacture  of 
whiskey.  Upon  hearing  of  his  intention  Dr.  McLough- 
lin,  in  a  personal  interview,  explained  to  him  that  the 
introduction  of  the  manufacture  of  whiskey  would  injure, 
and  perhaps  ruin,  the  farming  industry,  then  just  be- 
ginning to  develop,  and  asked  that  he  should  embark 
in  some  other  business.  The  request  was  granted. 
Young  began,  instead,  the  erection  of  a  grist-  and  planing- 
mill,  but  was  soon  induced  to  return  to  California  for  a 
herd  of  cattle.  These  he  brought  back  with  him  in  the 
summer  of  1838  and  settled  down  to  become  a  stock- 
raiser.  In  connection  with  this  business  he  erected  his 
mill  on  the  Chehalem  creek,  near  where  it  empties  into 
the  Willamette  River,  which  he  conducted  until  the 
winter  of  1 840-1,  when  it  was  carried  away  by  high 
water.  It  was  not  long  after  this  that  he  was  taken 
sick  with  a  pressure  on  the  brain  and  died  a  somewhat 
violent  death  at  his  home. 

The  death  of  Young,  as  has  been  stated,  was  the  real 
origin  of  the  movement  which  culminated  in  the  Cham- 
poeg  meeting.  .Soon  after  his  funeral  the  settlers  began 
discussing  the  matter,  which  was  not  finally  disposed 
of  until  several  years  afterward.  His  property  finally 
went  to  the  territorial  government,  but  it  required  much 
time  and  encountered  a  considerable  opposition. 

On  December  11,  1845,  Mr.  Garrison  presented  a 
petition  to  the  provisional  Legislature  "from  Daniel 
Waldo  and  Thomas  Jeffries  in  relation  to  the  estate  of 
Ewing  Young,"  nearly  five  years  after  his  death.  Refer- 
ence is  made  to  the  same  matter  in  the  Oregon  archives 
December  17,  1845,  December  4,  1846,  and  again  De- 


I70  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

cember  8.  It  was  finally  disposed  of  by  an  act  passed 
on  December  24,  1844  (?).  Its  interest  consists  in  its 
value  as  an  illustration  of  the  primitive  conditions  which 
prevailed  among  those  who  were  striving  amid  the  most 
adverse  circumstances  to  found  a  State.  The  act  reads 
as  follows : 

Section  1.  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Legislative  Com- 
mittee of  Oregon  that  the  executive  power  shall  ap- 
point an  administrator  to  close  up  the  estate  of  Ewing 
Young,  deceased,  and  such  administrator  shall  pro- 
ceed as  soon  as  possible  to  wind  up  the  business  of 
the  estate. 

Sec.  2.  That  the  executive  power  shall  cause  to 
be  let  out  to  the  lowest  bidder  the  building  of  a  sub- 
stantial log  jail  at  Oregon  City,  to  be  finished  at  such 
time  and  manner  as  they  may  think  proper,  and  shall 
take  such  bond  and  security  as  they  shall  deem  suffi- 
cient to  secure  its  completion. 

Sec.  3.  That  said  administrator  shall  pay  all  moneys 
collected  by  him  belonging  to  the  estate  of  the  said 
Ewing  Young,  deceased,  to  the  treasurer  of  Oregon, 
whose  duty  it  shall  be  to  give  the  said  administrator 
a  receipt  for  the  same. 

Sec.  4.  That  the  sum  of  one  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  is  hereby  appropriated  for  the  building  of  said 
jail,  to  be  paid  out  of  the  first  moneys  received  by 
the  said  administrator  of  said  estate,  and  in  the  event 
there  is  not  so  much  received,  then  the  balance  to  be 
paid  out  of  any  money  in  the  treasury  not  otherwise 
appropriated. 

Sec.  5.  That  the  faith  of  this  government  is  hereby 
pledged  for  the  payment  of  all  moneys  hereafter  re- 
ceived from  the  administrator  of  the  estate  of  said 
Young,  whenever  the  same  shall  be  lawfully  claimed, 
and  said  claim  established  by  the  heirs  or  creditors  of 
said   Young. 

Sec.  6.  That  the  executive  power  shall  be  author- 
ized to  receive  a  lot  donated  by  John  McLoughlin  for 
the  purpose  of  erecting  said  jail,  which  lot  shall  be 
conveyed  to  Oregon  agreeably  to  a  communication 
received  from  John  McLoughlin  addressed  to  a  com- 
mittee of  this  House  appointed  to  wait  on  him. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  171 

Sec.  7.     That  said  jail  shall  be  used  alike  for  the 
imprisonment  of  all  criminals  in  Oregon. 
Passed  December  24,  1844. 

(Signed)      M.   M.   McCarver, 

Speaker. 

The  reader  will,  of  course,  at  once  detect  the  con- 
tradictory dates  in  the  foregoing  account  of  the  set- 
tlement of  Ewing  Young's  estate,  but  they  are  found  in 
the  archives  as  printed  here  and  it  is  impossible  to  arrive 
at  a  definite  conclusion  as  to  their  accuracy.  It  is  a  fact 
well  established,  however,  that  the  property  of  Young 
had  been  sold  and  the  proceeds  loaned  to  different  in- 
dividuals when  the  "executive  power"  decided  to  call 
them  in  and  invest  them  in  a  jail  that  would  accom- 
modate "all  the  criminals  in  Oregon."  It  might  be 
added  here,  sub  rosa,  that  the  inadequacy  of  such  a  jail 
now  for  such  a  purpose  clearly  indicates  the  phenomenal 
growth  of  the  population  of  the  Oregon  Country  since 
that  far-away  time  when  the  log  structure  at  Oregon 
City  answered  the  purpose  of  incarcerating  all  the  male- 
factors between  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Pacific 
Ocean — maybe. 

One  authority  avers  that  the  jail  was  built,  as  pro- 
vided, and  was  burned  to  the  ground  some  years  after- 
ward. By  putting  two  and  tVk^'O  together  it  may  be 
inferred  that  the  fire  occurred  soon  after  its  completion, 
for  it  is  recorded  in  the  archives  that  on  December  13. 
three  years  later,  "Mr.  Nesmith,  from  the  committee  on 
judiciary,  to  whom  was  referred  that  portion  of  the 
Governor's  message  relating  to  the  erection  of  a  jail, 
reported  that  it  was  deemed  inexpedient  in  the  present 
embarrassed  condition  of  finance  to  incur  the  expense 
of  a  jail." 

The  inference  is,  of  course,  or  at  least  one  justifiable 
inference  is,  that  the  salutary  effect  of  the  log  jail  during 
its  brief  existence  had  been  sufficient  to  disperse  "all  the 
criminals  in  Oregon,"  and  that  since  there  was  no  other 
estate  unclaimed  and  available  to  be  used  for  the  erec- 


172  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

tion  of  another  one  thousand  five  hundred  dollar  jail,  the 
young  Territory — as  yet  belonging  to  nobody — could 
proceed  along  its  way  very  well  without  one.  Blessed 
condition ! 

Although  the  value  of  the  estate  of  Mr.  Young  was 
collected  into  the  treasury,  it  was  never  regarded  as  the 
absolute  property  of  the  Territory.  In  the  territorial 
liabilities  twenty-six  hundred  and  fifteen  dollars  is  given 
as  "collected  from  the  estate  of  Ewing  Young."  In 
after  years,  when  Oregon  had  been  admitted  into  the 
Union,  the  value  of  his  property  was  refunded  to  his 
son,  Joaquin  Young,  who  appeared  and  established  his 
claim  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  authorities.  Ewing 
Young,  it  seemed,  had  contracted  a  marriage  with  an 
Indian  woman,  in  Xew  Mexico,  before  going  to  Cali- 
fornia, the  issue  of  which  marriage  was  Joaquin,  a 
personage  who  would  ha\-e  never  been  known  in  the 
history  of  Oregon  if  his  father  had  died  in  the  poor- 
house — provided  there  had  been  one  in  Oregon. 

When  Ewing  Young  first  came  to  Oregon  he  was  of 
the  opinion  that  the  land  would  be  disposed  of  in  large 
grants,  as  in  California.  In  accordance  with  this  im- 
pression, he  made  claim  to  practically  all  of  the  Chchalem 
valley  and  was  its  nominal  owner,  without  opposition, 
at  the  tim.e  of  his  death. 

In  1845  there  came  to  the  valley  a  man  named 
Sydney  Smith,  a  grandnephew  of  Ethan  Allen,  of  Ticon- 
deroga  fame,  who  secured  employment  on  his  farm. 
Young  was  said  to  be  a  hard  man  to  get  along  with, 
but  Smith  appeared  to  understand  him  sufficiently  well 
to  smooth  o\er  the  rough  places  and  they  were  great 
friends  at  the  time  of  Young's  death.  Smith  was  born 
in  New  York  State  in  1809  and  came  to  Oregon  with  a 
score  of  other  young  men,  making  the  entire  trip  on 
horseback.  Upon  "S'oung's  death  and  the  settlement  of 
his  estate.  Sydney  Smith  purchased  as  much  of  the  land 
as  he  could  lawfully  hold,  including  the  houses  and  other 
improvements.  He  was  then  thirty-two  years  old  and 
single. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  173 

In  1845  there  also  came  to  the  Chehalem  valley  a  man 
named  Daniel  Bailey,  from  Missouri.  He  had  a  family 
consisting  of  his  wife  and  several  children,  and  hearing 
that  a  bachelor  named  Smith  had  a  house  not  far  away, 
he  immediately  went  to  see  him  with  the  hope  that  he 
would  like  to  take  a  family  in  for  the  winter,  for  he  had 
no  place  to  go.  Fortunately,  the  proposition  met  wnth 
Smith's  approval,  and  the  family  moved  in. 

It  may  seem  somewhat  singular  that  'way  out  here 
on  this  coast,  so  long  ago  as  1846,  such  things  could 
happen,  but  it  turned  out  that  Bailey's  second  daughter, 
Miranda,  looked  good  to  Smith,  and  by  Christmas  time 
she  began  to  suspect  that  such  was  his  impression.  In 
a  few  months  more  this  suspicion  proved  to  be  well 
grounded. 

So,  one  day  in  April — one  Sunday,  when  the  sun  was 
shining  gloriously  and  the  meadow-larks,  as  if  rejoicing 
at  the  turn  things  had  taken,  were  making  the  air  vibrant 
with  their  silver  melody,  Sydney  Smith  and  Miranda 
Bailey  were  taking  a  stroll  through  the  adjacent  woods, 
talking,  it  may  be  supposed,  of  little  nothings  and  of 
nothing  in  particular.  As  they  walked  along  they 
noticed  an  acorn  which,  after  spending  the  winter  under 
a  covering  of  leaves,  had  sent  out  a  small  sprout  in 
search  of  a  footing.  Sydney  carried  the  incipient  oak  in 
his  hand  until,  as  it  happened,  they  came  to  the  grave  of 
Ewing  Young,  still  covered  with  the  low,  square  pen 
made  of  rails,  which  was  placed  there  on  the  day  of  his 
funeral,  five  years  previous. 

On  one  of  the  top  rails  of  this  pen  the  young  couple 
sat  down  to  discuss  such  topics  as  were  uppermost  in 
their  minds.  Presently  Smith  suggested  that  they  plant 
the  acorn  on  the  grave  and  watch  for  results.  Accord- 
ingly he  made  a  small  hole  in  the  dirt,  Miranda  placed 
the  sprout  in  it  and  covered  it  with  the  toe  of  her  shoe. 
They  went  home  that  day  by  a  circuitous  route,  and  before 
they  arrived  an  agreement  had  been  entered  into  that 
there   should   be   a   wedding   in   the   immediate  vicinity 


174  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

sometime  during  the  year — and  they  knew  who  the  con- 
tracting parties  were  to  be. 

So,  on  the  seventh  day  of  the  following  August  Sydney 
Smith  and  Miranda  Bailey  were  married  and  lived  all 
their  lives  on  the  farm  which  he  obtained  from  Ewing 
Young.  During  the  summer  of  '46  several  visits  were 
made  to  the  grave  of  Ewing  Young  to  observe  the 
growth  of  that  acorn.  It  had,  in  fact,  developed  into  an 
oak  plant  and  reached  the  height  of  one  foot  in  that 
season.  It  prospered  without  interruption  in  the  years 
that  came  afterward  and  is  to-day.  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
five  years,  a  sturdy  tree  forty  feet  in  height,  thirty  inches 
in  diameter.  Standing,  as  it  does,  on  the  grave  of  Ewing 
Young,  it  constitutes  the  only  monument  to  the  memory 
of  a  man  whose  singular  career  had  so  much  to  do  with 
the  early  history  of  Oregon. 

Sydney  Smith  was  one  of  the  fifty-two  Americans  who 
carried  the  day  at  Champoeg  on  I\Tay  2.  1843,  ^^^  his 
name  is  carved  on  the  marble  shaft  which  has  been 
erected  there.  He  died  on  his  farm  on  September  18. 
1880.  Mrs.  vSmith  is  still  living,  a  remarkably  bright 
woman  past  eighty  years  of  age,  and  is  the  owner  of  the 
old  farm  in  the  Chehalem  vallev.  Her  oldest  daughter. 
Irene,  is  the  wife  of  Dr.  J.  F.  Calbreath.  superintendent 
for  eight  years  of  the  Oregon  Hospital  for  the  Insane, 
now  a  prominent  physician  of  Portland. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  pretty  place  is  Champoeg,  Marion  County,  Oregon. 
It  is  located  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Willamette  River, 
about  thirty  miles  above  Portland,  or  rather  the  spot  is 
where  Champoeg  was  in  1843  ^^^^  where  it  continued  to 
be  until  it  was  washed  away  in  the  great  flood  in  the 
Willamette  River  in  December,  1861.  The  magnificent 
French  Prairie,  which  begins  a  few  miles  north  of  Salem, 
some  twenty  miles  away,  narrows  in  an  irregular  way 
as  one  travels  toward  the  north  until,  as  the  Willamette 
is  approached,  the  timber  closes  in  occasionally  only  to 
give  away  again  for  a  smaller  opening  of  fertile  land. 
Champoeg  v/as  located  where  the  last  of  these  small 
prairies  touches  the  river,  where  the  bank  is  at  least  forty 
feet  above  the  water  when  at  its  average  stage. 

For  the  reason  that  the  Indians  who  inhabited  the 
Willamette  valley  naturally  followed  the  open  land  as 
they  journeyed  to  the  river  on  their  annual  and  other 
fishing  trips,  they  made  their  Great  Camp  at  the  point 
where  this  route  led  them.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  established  a  trading  post  at 
that  point  in  the  spring  of  1843.  Prior  to  that  time, 
however,  it  had  built  a  small  warehouse  there  for  the 
purpose  of  receiving  vv^heat.  which  w^as  raised  in  small 
quantities  on  the  French  Prairie.  Dr.  McLoughlin  had 
discovered  that  the  Russian  traders  toward  the  north 
were  fond  of  wheat  and  were  quite  v\^ilHng  to  give  furs 
in  exchange  for  it.  The  Doctor,  being  certain  that  v\^heat 
would  grow  to  great  perfection  in  the  Willamette  valley, 
as  early  as  1836  had  induced  Joseph  Gervais  to  locate  on 
the  French  Prairie  and  engage  in  that  business.  Others 
in  a  small  way  followed  his  example  and  a  warehouse 
was  erected  at  Champoeg — "The  Place  of  the  Camp" — 
to  receive  the  new  product,  which  was  transported  to 

175 


176  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Vancouver  and  to  Oregon  City  for  the  purpose  of 
exchange. 

F.  X.  Mattliieu,  who  came  to  the  French  Prairie  in 
September.  184J,  and  who  is  still  living,  assisted  by 
another  Frenchman,  built  an  addition  to  this  warehouse 
in  the  early  spring  of  1843.  "^  which  Dr.  McLoughlin 
placed  a  small  stock  of  goods.  His  company  was  thus 
enabled  to  take  advantage  of  the  disposition  of  the 
Indians  to  barter  furs  for  bright  colored  articles  of 
apparel.  After  that.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  No-Shirt,  coming 
from  the  vicinity  of  Salem  or  Scio.  could  return  home 
arrayed  in  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  and  excite  the 
envy,  if  not  the  admiration,  of  their  copper-colored 
fellows  in  all  the  region  'round  about. 

As  the  early  settlers  in  the  Willamette  valley  by  com- 
mon consent  regarded  Champoeg  as  the  most  centrally 
located  point  for  their  occasional  meetings,  naturally  it 
was  chosen  as  the  place  where  they  should  assemble  to 
decide  the  momentous  question  whether  or  not  an 
attempt  should  be  made  to  effect  a  civil  organization. 
It  was.  indeed,  a  day  and  an  occasion  fraught  wdth 
wonderful  consequences,  as  w'e  look  backward  and  con- 
sider the  situation  and  the  courage  of  the  men  who  were 
directly  behind  it. 

At  the  appointed  hour  one  hundred  and  two  men  had 
assembled  at  Champoeg — May  2.  1843 — ^'i  accordance 
with  the  call  of  the  Committee  of  Tw-elve.  As  may  be 
supposed,  the  atmosphere  was  charged  with  apprehension, 
uncertainty  and  a  decided,  though  somewhat  suppressed, 
feeling  of  bitterness;  for  the  Hudson  Ray  men  had  come 
in  force  to  vote  against  any  sort  of  an  organization. 
The  Americans,  on  their  part,  had  summoned  every  man 
from  California  to  British  Columbia!  And,  all  told, 
there  were  one  hundred  and  two  men  there  to  engage  in 
a  contest  which  probably  would  decide — and  which 
actually  did  decide — whether  a  country  half  as  large  as 
the  best  portion  of  Europe  should  ultimately  belong  to 
the  United  States  or  to  Great  Britain. 

It  was   a  great   day   for  millions   yet   unborn.      The 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  177 

importance  of  it  was  fully  appreciated  by  the  Americans, 
for  they  were  striving  in  the  interest  of  the  nation  they 
loved,  and  while  it  must  be  admitted  that  their  opponents 
were  equally  in  earnest,  their  underlying  motive  was 
merely  a  desire  to  keep  the  country  in  the  condition  most 
favorable  for  the  business  of  trapping. 

The  various  records  of  that  great  meeting  at  Cham- 
poeg  do  not  give  its  details.  The  records  merely  recite 
the  results,  together  with  the  manner  of  taking  the  vote. 
F.  X.  Matthieu  is  now  the  only  survivor  of  that  gather- 
ing: singularly  enough,  it  w^as  his  action  and  influence 
alone  which  decided  the  vote  in  favor  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. Many  times  I  have  visited  the  old  patriarch  at  his 
home  on  his  magnificent  farm,  located  near  Champoeg, 
and  listened  with  increasing  interest  to  his  narration  of 
that  incident  and  many  others  of  surpassing  historical 
value. 

The  fact  is,  many  more  people  participated  in  the 
meeting  than  its  promoters  dared  hope.  Some  men  were 
compelled  to  travel  more  than  a  hundred  miles  on  horse- 
back or  on  foot,  and  though  the  meeting  had  been  ex- 
tensively advertised,  and  the  interest  was  unbounded, 
it  was  not  thought  that  even  a  hundred  people  would 
undertake  the  difficult  journey.  Mr.  Matthieu  says,  how- 
ever, it  was  hardly  possible  after  adjournment  to  recall 
the  name  of  an  American  settler  who  had  neglected  to 
respond  to  the  call  of  duty  on  that  day. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  and  Dr.  I.  L.  Bab- 
cock  chosen  as  presiding  officer.  Three  secretaries  were 
selected.  Gray,  Willson  and  LeBreton.  Amid  suppressed 
excitement,  and  some  threats  from  both  sides  as  to  what 
would  be  the  result  if  so  and  so  should  happen,  the  Com- 
mittee of  Twelve  submitted  a  plan  for  the  organization 
of  a  government  which  included  a  supreme  judge,  with 
probate  powers,  a  clerk  of  his  court  who  should  be  a 
recorder  also,  a  sheriff,  three  magistrates,  three  con- 
stables, a  treasurer,  a  major  and  three  captains.  It  also 
provided   for   "the  appointment  of  nine  persons   who 


178  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

should  draft  a  code  of  laws  to  be  submitted  to  a  public 
meeting  to  be  held  at  Champoeg  on  July  5,  next."  . 

After  the  report  was  read,  or,  in  other  words,  after 
the  red  flag  had  been  waved  in  the  face  of  the  English 
lion,  the  storm  burst  with  great  fury  and  all  forms  of 
parliamentary  procedure  were  abandoned.  One  man 
got  the  floor  and  began  "a  few  remarks,"  but  soon  dis- 
covered that  there  were  several  groups  in  the  room  en- 
gaged in  a  warm  discussion  "on  the  side."  The  noise, 
and  the  confusion  which  it  necessarily  precipitated,  soon 
rendered  the  chairman  powerless  to  preserve  order  or 
further  direct  the  meeting.  At  this  juncture  he  put  the 
question  on  the  motion  to  accept,  which  was  about  to  be 
declared  lost,  when  LeBreton  demanded  a  division. 
This  was  seconded  by  William  H.  Gray,  and  as  the  room 
was  too  small  to  hold  so  large  a  gathering — a  part  of  the 
men  never  having  been  able  to  get  inside  the  door — 
everybody  rushed  for  the  outside,  where  it  seemed  for 
a  moment  that  all  would  end  in  a  dispersion  without 
further  results.  Excited  men  were  standing  in  groups 
gesticulating  frantically,  after  the  manner  of  French- 
men, and  talking  vociferously  in  English  and  French, 
with  a  suggestion  here  and  there  of  Spanish.  LeBreton's 
motion  was  still  "in  the  air,"  when  that  bold  mountaineer 
and  trapper — he  of  giant  frame  and  courage  unquestioned, 
Jo  Meek — seeing  the  drift  of  things  and  the  danger 
which  confronted  the  Americans  of  losing  all,  suddenly 
shouted,  "Who's  for  a  divide?  All  in  favor  of  organiza- 
tion follow  me !" 

The  efifect  of  Meek's  impetuosity  and  characteristic 
"go,"  acted  like  magic  upon  the  partially  disconcerted 
and  puzzled  Americans.  At  once  he  strode  to  one  side 
of  the  little  prairie,  the  dimensions  of  which  were  a 
half-acre,  and  the  Americans  followed  him  to  a  man. 
Those  opposed  to  organization  remained  in  a  group. 
A  count  disclosed  the  fact  that  there  were  fifty  men  with 
Meek  and  fifty  opposed,  with  two  men  half-way  between 
the  opposing  forces,  not  yet  taking  sides  and  engaged  in 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  179 

a  very  earnest  conversation.  These  men  were  F.  X. 
Matthieu  and  Etienne  Lucier — both  Frenchmen. 

The  suspense  lasted  but  a  few  moments,  however,  for 
the  two  belated  debators  suddenly  turned  and  took  their 
places  with  the  Americans,  who,  having  already  "taken 
the  count,"  knew  the  result.  With  hats  flying  in  the  air 
and  handshaking  going  on  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm, 
they  took  possession  of  the  "meeting,"  while  the  defeated 
participants  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  away. 

It  was  a  small  contest,  comparatively,  waged  three 
thousand  miles  and  more  from  the  capital  of  the  United 
States  by  fifty-two  men  who  were  Americans  either  by 
birth  or  in  sentiment,  but  in  that  hour  a  question  was 
decided  which  without  doubt  resulted  in  the  final  acqui- 
sition of  all  the  Northwest  territory  by  our  beloved 
Uncle  Sam.  Benton,  Linn  and  their  associates  did  valiant 
work  for  many  years  in  behalf  of  this  very  consumma- 
tion, but  the  most  important  link  in  the  great  chain  which 
finally  bound  this  country  to  the  United  States  was 
welded  on  that  day  at  Champoeg  by  that  little  band  of 
determined  and  patriotic  men.  Chief  among  these — shall 
it  not  be  said  ? — were  Meek,  Matthieu  and  Lucier.  And 
the  chief  of  this  triumvirate  was  Matthieu,  who,  it  was 
discovered  immediately  after  the  meeting  was  adjourned, 
had  been  in  favor  of  an  organization  all  the  time;  but 
finding  Lucier  undecided,  and  about  to  follow  his  fellow 
Frenchmen  against  the  Americans,  Matthieu  arrested 
him  en  route  to  their  camp  and  persuaded  him  to  ac- 
company him.  It  was,  indeed,  what  would  be  called 
in  modern  slang  "a  close  shave."  Etienne  Lucier  at  that 
time  had  a  farm  on  French  Prairie,  but  had  i)reviously 
been  employed  by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  He  had 
a  home  and  family  and  Matthieu,  not  yet  married,  was 
living  with  him.  The  influence  of  the  latter  was  sufficient 
to  secure  his  support  and  the  day  was  carried. 

The  meeting  at  once  proceeded  to  elect  officers  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  plan  adopted  and  chose  A.  E.  Wilson, 
supreme  judge ;  George  W.  LeBreton,  clerk,  and  Joseph 
L.  Meek,  sheriff.     The  first  Legislative  Committee  was 


i8o  FlFrV  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

composed  of  Robert  Shortess,  David  Hill.  Alanson  Beers, 
William  H.  Gray,  Thomas  J.  Hubbard,  James  O'Neil, 
Robert  Moore,  Robert  Newell  and  William  Doughty. 
Before  adjournment  a  resolution  of  instruction  to  the 
Legislative  Committee  was  passed  wliich  read  as  follows : 

The  sessions  of  the  said  Legislative  Committee  shall 
not  last  longer  than  six  days ;  no  tax  shall  be  levied ; 
the  office  of  Governor  shall  not  be  created ;  the  com- 
pensation of  the  members  of  the  Legislative  Committe 
shall  be  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  day  and 
the  revenues  of  the  territory  shall  be  secured  by  vol- 
untary contribution. 

Oh,  for  another  condition  like  that! — w'here  there  shall 
be  no  taxes  levied,  no  revenues  except  voluntary  contri- 
butions, legislators  serving  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a 
day  and — no  Governors ! 

The  first  meeting  of  the  Legislative  Committee,  the  first 
of  its  kind,  or  of  any  kind,  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
in  any  part  of  the  territory  now  constituting  the  United 
States,  was  held  at  the  Methodist  Mission  ten  miles  below 
Salem.  The  building  used  w^as  known  as  the  "Granary," 
a  story-and-a-half  building,  sixteen  by  thirty  feet,  with  a 
square  room  in  front.  After  having  been  successively 
used  for  a  school  and  church  and  finally  turned  into  a 
granary  by  the  missionaries,  it  now  became  the  Capitol 
of  the  "Oregon  Country"  about  whose  acquisition  states- 
men of  national  renown  had  wrangled  with  varying 
degrees  of  eloquence  for  more  than  twenty  years. 

The  members  appear  to  have  appreciated  the  impor- 
tance of  the  step  they  were  taking  and  were  as  frugal  in 
their  disbursements  as  the  "proletariat"  could  have 
wished.  Alanson  Beers  and  Dr.  Babcock  contributed 
enough  to  the  public  treasury  to  defray  the  entire  expense 
of  the  first  session  and  each  of  the  members  gave  a  sum 
equal  to  the  amount  of  his  pay.  This  session  convened 
May  6  and  adjourned  four  days  later  to  re-convene  June 
27,  which  latter  session  was  completed  June  28. 

The  chief  w^ork  of  these  two  sessions  was  the  prepara- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  i8i 

tion  of  an  organic  law  which  was  submitted  to  the  people 
at  a  mass-meeting  held  at  Champoeg  July  5  and  ratified 
practically  without  opposition,  the  only  note  of  discord 
arising  from  the  proposition  to  create  the  office  of  Gov- 
ernor, in  violation  of  the  instructions  of  the  meeting  of 
May  2.  Rev.  Gustavus  Hines,  who  presided,  made  a 
vigorous  speech  against  the  report  in  this  particular,  de- 
nouncing it  as  "the  proposed  triple  executive,  a  hydra- 
headed  monster — a  repetition  of  the  Roman  Trium- 
virate." But  the  office  was  created  as  a  sort  of  trinity,  a 
three-in-one  Governor,  whose  responsibility  could  not  be 
definitely  fixed. 

Accordingly,  Alanson  Beers,  Joseph  Gale  and  David 
Hill  were  chosen  as  the  Executive  Committee  to  serve 
until  a  general  election  should  be  held  in  May,  1844. 

In  talking  with  F.  X.  Matthieu  not  long  ago  about  that 
Champoeg  meeting,  prompted  by  curiosity,  I  asked  him 
what  kind  of  weather  it  was  on  that  day.  After  thinking 
a  moment,  he  said  the  sun  was  shining,  he  believed,  as  he 
remembered  that  the  men  were  there  in  their  shirt  sleeves. 
But,  he  added,  that  fact  would  not  necessarily  indicate  the 
kind  of  weather  which  was  prevailing,  since  few  of  the 
men  had  any  coats  to  wear,  anyway ! 

His  friend  Lucier  had  been  made  to  believe  by  his 
fellow  Frenchmen  that  if  a  government  was  organized 
the  few  things  they  possessed  would  be  so  heavily  taxed 
that  it  would  be  ruinous.  Lucier  had  been  told  that  if 
the  Americans  carried  the  day  the  tax  on  a  single  win- 
dow-glass would  be  twenty-five  cents,  and  Matthieu  was 
laboring  with  him  to  disprove  such  an  absurdity  while 
the  fifty  impatient  Americans  were  waiting  to  see  where 
they  would  take  their  places. 

"Besides,"  said  Matthieu  to  him,  "you  know  you  have 
no  window-glass  in  your  house  anyway,  and  won't,  per- 
haps, for  a  long  time.  What  difference  will  that  make? 
It  isn't  so,  anyway."  So  Lucier  went  with  him,  and 
Oregon  was  "saved." 

Matthieu,  who  was  then  living  with  Lucier,  says  his 
only  windows  consisted  of  openings  in  the  logs,  which 


i82  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

were  covered  with  panther  skins,  carefully  scraped  so 
thin  that  they  served  the  purpose  very  well. 

"But  you  couldn't  see  out."  I  suggested  to  Mr.  Mat- 
thieu. 

"No,"  he  replied  quickly,  "but  nobody  could  look  in, 
either!" 

At  intervals,  for  many  years  after  Mr.  Matthieu  set- 
tled on  his  splendid  farm  on  French  Prairie,  he  shot 
deer  from  his  front  porch,  but  a  few  hundred  yards 
from  where  the  electric  cars  running  from  Portland  to 
Salem  now  pass  every  hour  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles 
an  hour! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

About  the  middle  of  December,  1899,  the  Oregon 
State  Historical  Society  held  its  annual  meeting  in  Port- 
land and  in  the  course  of  its  proceedings  passed  a  reso- 
lution deciding  to  appoint  several  committees  of  one 
each  to  locate  exactly  the  different  points  of  interest  con- 
nected with  the  early  history  of  the  commonwealth — 
such  as  the  precise  spot  where  Lewis  and  Clark  wintered 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  (Astoria)  during  their 
great  exploration  nearly  a  hundred  years  before,  the 
spot  where  the  Astor  Fort  was  erected,  and  the  par- 
ticular place  where  the  famous  Champoeg  meeting  was 
held  in  May,  1843.  This  latter  duty  was  assigned  to  me, 
since  I  was  a  native  of  Marion  County  and  had  spent 
most  of  my  life  there. 

Accordingly,  on  the  morning  of  May  i,  1900,  I 
mounted  my  bicycle — bicycle  riding  was  a  very  popular 
fad  at  that  time — and  proceeded  toward  Champoeg, 
some  thirty  miles  away.  I  had  previously  made  an 
appointment  with  Hon.  F.  X.  Matthieu,  who  lived  but 
three  miles  from  Champoeg  and  who  even  then  was  the 
only  man  living  who  had  participated  in  that  meeting 
in  '43.  The  arrangement  was  for  me  to  go  to  his  home, 
remain  overnight,  and  in  the  morning,  on  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  day  the  event  took  place,  go  over  with  him 
to  the  quiet  little  town  and  mark  the  spot  where  history 
was  made  by  a  lot  of  earnest  men.  Hon.  George  H. 
Himes,  the  secretary  of  the  Oregon  Historical  Society, 
had  also  promised  to  be  present. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  beautiful  ride  from  Salem 
to  Champoeg.  It  was  a  perfect  day,  with  a  firm  north 
breeze,  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky;  the  roads  were  in  good 
condition,  the  crops  were  growing  splendidly,  birds  were 
singing  everywhere,  seemingly  to  be  in  harmony  with 

183 


i84  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Nature's  glad  mood — it  was,  in  short,  just  that  sort  of  a 
day  which  is  known  in  all  its  wealth  of  joy,  beauty,  and 
inspiration  only  in  the  Willamette  valley  in  the  spring 
and  summer  months. 

I  passed  through  the  town  of  Gervais.  where  Joseph 
Gervais  settled  in  the  early  '30's.  At  his  home  one 
of  the  meetings  was  held  preliminary  to  the  actual 
organization  at  Champoeg.  The  little  city  rests  upon 
the  bosom  of  the  great  French  Prairie,  now  teeming 
with  prosperous  farmers  whose  land  is  worth  more  per 
acre  now  than  a  section  was  in  the  time  of  Gervais,  and 
the  main  street  is  where  the  old  barnyard  was  located 
in  the  days  of  Jason  Lee. 

Woodburn,  the  "metropolis  of  French  Prairie,"  rail- 
road junction  and  all-round  pushing  town,  twenty  miles 
away,  was  passed  in  the  early  forenoon,  and  Hubbard, 
four  miles  farther  on,  soon  afterward.  At  this  place  a 
detour  to  the  west  was  necessary  to  strike  the  old  "Cham- 
poeg road"  on  which  Father  Matthieu  lived. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  celebrated  old  homestead  I  found 
that  Himes,  with  a  Portland  photographer,  was  already 
there,  but  Mr.  Matthieu  was  in  Portland  on  business  and 
had,  in  fact,  forgotten  his  appointment  with  us.  A  long- 
distance telephone  was  brought  into  action  and  he  replied 
that  he  would  take  the  evening  train  for  home.  A  team 
was  sent  to  Aurora,  the  nearest  station,  and  he  arrived 
in  time  for  supper. 

To  while  away  the  afternoon,  Himes  and  I  took  a 
long  walk  through  the  old  woods,  which  encroach  well 
upon  the  house  on  the  west — a  grove  of  tall  firs  which 
even  to-day  preserve  much  of  their  original  beauty,  and 
which  are  full  of  unspoken  reminiscences  reaching  back 
to  the  days  when  Jo  Meek,  "Rob"  Newell,  Abernethy 
and  their  confreres  passed  through  them  clad  in  buck- 
skin, following  Indian  trails. 

Upon  our  return  to  the  barnyard  Himes  proposed 
that  we  engage  in  a  game  of  "horseshoes,"  the  raw 
material  for  the  process  hanging  on  a  long  peg  on  the 
wall   of   the  oats  bin.      This   was   agreed  to,   with   the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  185 

declaration  on  the  part  of  each  that  he  hadn't  pitched  a 
horseshoe  for  more  than  twenty  years;  but  I  soon  after- 
ward had  reason  to  suspect  that  the  versatile  secretary 
of  the  Oregon  Historical  Society  had  forgotten  his  dates, 
and  that  a  careful  inspection  of  his  premises  at  home 
would  disclose  a  fully-equipped,  up-to-date  outfit  for  the 
game  of  quoits  not  to  be  surpassed  at  any  cross-roads 
blacksmith's  shop  in  the  entire  State!  In  fact,  the  game 
was  so  outrageously  one-sided  that,  after  a  two-hours' 
siege,  I  called  the  contest  (?)  off  and  adjourned  to  the 
house,  where  I  discovered  that  the  beautiful  lawn  in 
front  of  the  pioneer's  home  needed  some  attention.  I 
intimated  as  much  to  the  women  folk,  who  were  enjoy- 
ing the  ideal  afternoon  on  the  broad  front  porch,  from 
which  one  of  the  best  views  of  Mt.  Hood  to  be  found 
anywhere  in  western  Oregon  is  afforded.  I  was  at  once 
informed  that  a  very  good  lawn-mower  was  in  the 
woodshed!  Game  to  the  last,  I  expressed  my  undying 
fondness  for  pushing  a  lawn-mower — that  in  fact  it 
was  one  of  my  particular  pleasures  in  life;  and  to  prove 
my  sincerity,  I  mowed  something  like  a  half -acre  of 
heavy  blue-grass  during  the  next  hour  and  a  half,  much 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  demon  Himes,  who  thought  he 
saw  an  expression  of  regret  on  my  face  that  I  had  been  so 
needlessly  gallant. 

But  Himes  was  mistaken.  I  am  very  fond  of  run- 
ning a  lawn-mower,  and  compared  with  it,  as  a  pleasant 
pastime,  pitching  horseshoes  is  a  dull,  profitless,  thank- 
less, uninspiring  and  altogether  foolish  way  of  spending 
one's  time!  Anybody  can  pitch  horseshoes,  but  it  takes 
a  positive  genius  to  push  a  lawn-mower  successfully — 
and  look  pleasant  about  it. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Matthieu,  Mr.  Himes,  the 
photographer  and  I  climbed  into  the  carriage  of  our 
host  and  drove  over  to  Champoeg  along  the  road  that 
had  been  familiar  to  Matthieu  for  all  the  sixty  preceding 
years.  As  has  been  stated  before,  for  many  years  after 
the  pioneers  met  at  Champoeg  the  town  remained  on  the 
banks  of  the  Willamette  River  and  was  quite  a  shipping 


i86  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

point  for  all  French  Prairie,  but  it  was  completely 
washed  away  in  December.  1861,  after  which  it  was 
rebuilt  a  half-mile  back  from  the  river  on  a  bench, 
though  the  warehouse  for  the  receipt  of  freight  was 
replaced.  With  the  advent  of  the  railroad  in  1870,  how- 
ever, this  was  abandoned,  and  now  boats  seldom  touch 
at  the  historic  old  landing  save  for  a  passenger  bound 
for  some  down-river  point. 

Arriving  at  the  river's  bank,  it  was  a  poem  and  song 
combined  to  see  Mr.  Matthicu  as  he  stood  taking  in  the 
situation,  the  grounds  and  directions.  The  point  where 
the  meeting  was  held  had  changed  but  little  in  the  inter- 
vening time.  It  was  then  a  small  prairie,  some  fifty 
yards  across,  and  had  remained  so.  save  that  here  and 
there  was  an  oak  "grub"  which  had  managed  to  escape 
the  interference  of  the  settler's  axe  or  the  successful 
tramp  of  wandering  stock.  To  our  host  w^ho  had  not 
visited  the  spot  for  several  years,  the  association  ap- 
peared to  recall  the  "days  of  auld  lang  syne."  He  was 
standing  on  the  very  spot  where  John  McLoughlin  had 
come  in  the  early  days  to  locate  another  trading  post — 
McLoughlin  who  for  thirty  years  w'as  the  Governor  and 
dictator  of  all  the  Northwestern  territory;  Jo  Meek  had 
stalked  across  this  little  glade  with  all  the  impetuosity 
of  a  Roosevelt  and  in  a  dramatic  manner  had  decided 
the  fate  of  an  empire;  Lucier,  the  old  friend  of  Mat- 
thieu,  had  here  stood  irresolute,  puzzled  as  he  listened  to 
the  call  of  his  countrymen  and  his  former  associations 
on  the  one  side,  and  to  the  admonitions  of  a  new  duty 
and  the  appeals  of  his  strong-minded  young  friend  on 
the  other — and  these,  w'ith  all  the  other  fifty-one  men, 
had  long  years  before  passed  through  the  \^alley  of 
Death ! 

For  several  minutes  the  old  hero  neither  spoke  nor 
gave  answer  to  our  questions;  he  seemed  utterly  indif- 
ferent to  his  surroundings.  He  was  living  in  another 
age — a  former  generation  which  had  passed  away  was 
receiving  his  attention  and  he  was  listening  to  other 
voices.     It  was  a  moment  when  neither  Himes  nor  I 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  187 

felt  disposed  to  talk.  We  let  the  old  gentleman  com- 
plete his  communion,  knowing  well  that  we  formed  no 
part  of  the  audience  which  was  the  background  of  the 
picture  created  by  Matthieu  out  of  the  boundless  field 
of  memory. 

Finally,  turning  around,  he  cast  his  eyes  across  the 
river  and  looked  admiringly  at  the  beautiful  hills,  just 
beyond  which  many  of  the  first  settlers  had  located  and 
over  which  they  had  ridden  on  horseback  to  attend  the 
meeting  of  May  2,  1843.  ^7  degrees  he  came  to  him- 
self, and  turning  to  us  said: 

"Pretty  place,   isn't  it?" 

Glad  that  he  had  completed  his  reverie,  I  asked  him 
where  the  meeting  was  held — the  exact  spot.  He  quickly 
replied : 

"Well,  sir,  it  was  held  all  around  here.  We  didn't 
hold  it  in  a  house  where  everybody  had  a  chair  and  a 
desk.  We  began  it  in  a  little  room  which  the  clerk  of 
the  store  had.  but  it  was  too  small,  so  we  went  outdoors 
and  had  it  pretty  much  all  over  this  prairie.  But  the 
storehouse  was  about  there" — pointing — "and  Jo  Meek 
walked  about  there" — pointing  again — "and  we  lined 
up  with  him  all  around  here" — stepping  away  a  few  feet. 
"Wliv,  sir.  I  can  see  him  now.  and  almost  hear  him  a.?  he 
said  :  'Who's  in  favor  of  a  divide — follow  me !'  "  Mr 
Matthieu  added  that  there  could  be  no  mistake  what- 
ever about  the  location  being  correct,  for  it  was  one  that 
time  would  not  change ;  and,  besides,  he  had  seen  it 
every  year  or  so  since  1843 — sometimes  oftener. 

At  the  time  of  our  visit  there  was  a  small  shack  on 
almost  the  precise  spot  where  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's 
old  store  stood,  occupied  by  the  family  of  a  man  who 
was  engaged  in  butchering  cattle  for  the  supply  of  the 
surrounding  country.  Of  the  woman  in  charge  I  bor- 
rowed an  ax.  With  this  I  felled  an  oak  tree  about  six 
inches  in  diameter  and,  with  four  feet  of  its  body,  made 
a  stake.  I  then  asked  Mr.  Matthieu  to  locate  as  best  he 
could  the  exact  spot  where  Meek  stood  during  that  excit- 
ing hour.     After  surveying  the  field   for  a  minute,  he 


i88  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

said:  "Well,  drive  it  here."  So,  while  I  held  it  in  an 
upright  position  for  him,  Mr.  Matthieu  took  the  ax  and 
struck  the  first  blow.  After  we  had  all  taken  our  turn 
at  it,  the  stake  was  firmly  driven  where  the  monument 
now  stands. 

The  photographer  took  several  pictures  of  the  location 
and  surrounding  country,  one  of  w'hich,  representing 
Himes,  Matthieu  and  myself  sitting  on  a  point  over- 
looking the  river,  will  be  found  in  these  pages. 

In  the  following  January  the  Legislature  appropriated 
a  substantial  sum  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  granite 
shaft  at  Champoeg  to  mark  the  historic  spot,  and  it  was 
put  in  place  in  April.  It  has  engraved  on  the  four  sides 
the  names  of  the  fifty-two  men  who  voted  for  organiza- 
tion, together  with  a  brief  description  of  the  great  event 
it  commemorates.  It  was  dedicated  on  the  second  day 
of  the  following  May.  by  appropriate  exercises,  in  the 
presence  of  two  thousand  people,  among  w^hom  were 
numbered  many  prominent  men  and  women  from  all 
parts  of  the  State.  Addresses  w^ere  made  by  Hon.  H.  W. 
Scott,  editor  of  the  Morning  Oregonian,  Hon.  John 
Minto,  and  several  others  w'ho  had  assisted  in  the  claim- 
ing of  the  Oregon  Country. 

Each  recurring  May  2  since  1901  large  assemblages 
have  gathered  in  an  old-fashioned  picnic  style  to  listen 
to  the  interesting  story  rehearsed  by  the  old  pioneers, 
who  greatly  enjoy  the  reunions. 


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— 

CHAPTER  XXV 

From  many  points  of  view  Francis  Xavier  Matthieu 
is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  now  living  in  Oregon. 
Although  April  2  of  this  year  he  reached  the  great  age 
of  ninety-three  years,  his  mental  powers  are  still  entirely 
unimpaired,  and  barring  his  failing  eyesight,  he  is  in 
good  form  physically.  He  attended  the  celebration  at 
Champoeg  on  May  2,  as  usual — he  has  never  failed  to 
be  present — and  was  of  course  the  guest  of  honor.  His 
memory  is  faultless  as  to  dates  and  incidents  in  the 
early  life  of  the  Oregon  Country  and  especially  is  he 
free  from  the  tendency  to  forget  the  names  of  his  former 
associates,  so  noticeable  in  most  people  of  advanced 
years. 

Mr.  Matthieu  was  born  in  Canada,  near  Montreal,  on 
April  2,  1818,  his  parents  being  of  French  ancestry 
though  themselves  born  in  Canada.  When  twenty  years 
old  he  took  an  active  part  in  the  Canadian  rebellion, 
for  which,  upon  its  suppression,  he  was  sought  by  the 
authorities.  Not  desiring  an  interview  with  them  at  the 
time,  he  hied  himself  away  to  an  uncle's  home,  about 
sixty  miles  distant,  where  he  remained  a  few  months, 
or  until  his  part  in  the  unpleasantness  was  partially  for- 
gotten and  the  local  government  was  in  search  of  larger 
game. 

When  he  felt  comparatively  safe,  he  had  a  call  from 
Albany,  New  York,  which  he  answered  by  making  the 
journey,  mostly  during  the  hours  between  sundown  and 
sunrise — to  avoid  the  heat.  He  secured  employment  as 
a  carpenter  at  Albany  for  a  few  months,  then  drifted 
out  to  Milwaukee,  Wisconsin,  remaining  a  few  days  at 
Fort  Dearborn,  the  site  where  Chicago,  with  its  more 
than  two  millions  of  inhabitants,  now  stands.  In  1840 
it  was  nothing  but  a  frontier  post  with  a  small  garrison. 

189 


I90  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

From  there  he  went  to  St.  Louis  where  he  secured  em- 
ployment with  the  American  Fur  Company,  his  par- 
ticular duty  being  to  sell  whisky  for  furs  to  the  Sioux 
Indians  in  the  Dakotas.  Fie  frequently  sold  one  gallon 
of  whisky  for  fifteen  buffalo  skins — which  in  these  days 
would  be  likened  to  "taking  candy  from  a  baby."  That 
was  a  memorable  trip,  traveling  from  St.  Louis  with 
twenty  wagons,  drawn  by  forty  mules,  carrying  two 
barrels  of  whisky  to  the  wagon. 

Mr.  Matthieu  reinained  with  the  Indians  during  one 
winter  and  it  is  surpassingly  interesting  to  listen  to  his 
narration  of  his  experiences.  As  a  matter  of  personal 
safety  he  lived  with  the  Indians  much  as  they  lived,  for 
by  following  this  course  he  avoided  all  trouble.  He  told 
me  once  that  the  only  experience  he  had  that  even  threat- 
ened to  cause  any  difficulty  was  on  the  occasion  of  a 
feast  of  some  sort  which  they  observed  with  much  pomp 
and  attention  to  detail. 

"They  had  prepared  a  dish  of  boiled  dog,"  said  Mr. 
Matthieu,  "in  fact,  it  was  the  only  dish  they  had,  and 
all  hands  sat  around  a  kind  of  table  while  the  fragments 
of  dog  meat,  floating  in  a  soup  which  was  furnished  in 
most  liberal  quantities,  were  served  in  huge  bowls,  most 
of  which  had  been  carved  out  of  soft  stone. 

"Of  course  this  was  not  a  very  appetizing  meal  for 
me,  especially  as  I  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  kind 
of  dogs  they  raised  and  had  seen  their  repulsive  and 
lousy  bodies  around  the  camp  for  months.  I  had  found 
I  could  do,  in  a  sort  of  way,  almost  everything  the 
Indians  had  required  of  me  without  a  great  deal  of  diffi- 
culty and  thus  had  retained  their  good  will ;  but  I  had 
to  balk  at  this  dog  feast.  And  3'et  they  were  so  im- 
pressed with  the  solemnity  and  importance  of  this  par- 
ticular ceremony  that  a  refusal  to  partake  with  every 
show  of  appreciation  would  have  been  a  plain  affront. 

"The  fact  was  I  was  'up  against  it' — I  simply  couldn't 
eat  the  dog  meat  or  drink  the  soup,  though  the  Indians 
were  gulping  it  down  with  the  same  relish  with  which 
I  would  drink  a  cold  lemonade  on  a  warm  day.    And  this 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  191 

fact  proved  my  salvation.  I  pretended  to  be  busy  eating 
the  floating  delicacy,  but  in  reality  had  not  swallowed 
anything.  The  happy  thought  occurred  to  me  to  pro- 
pose to  the  Indian  by  my  side  that  if  he  would  eat  my 
bowl  of  soup  I  would  give  him  a  whole  plug  of  tobacco. 
As  an  Indian  is  always  hungry,  he  very  eagerly  accepted 
my  offer  and  within  a  very  short  time  he  had  surrounded 
both  rations  and  still  looked  and  acted  hungry.  I  slipped 
him  his  plug  of  tobacco,  and  though  it  was  worth  two 
dollars  in  gold,  if  there  had  been  any  there,  I  thought  it 
was  the  best  trade  I  had  ever  made." 

In  the  summer  of  1842,  being  at  Fort  Laramie.  Mr. 
Matthieu  joined  a  company  of  people  who  w^ere  on  their 
way  to  Oregon,  making  the  trip  with  a  few  other  young 
men  on  horseback.  Arriving  where  The  Dalles  is  now, 
about  a  dozen  of  them  started  for  the  Willamette  valley 
over  the  Indian  trail  which  passed  along  the  north  side 
of  the  base  of  Mt.  Hood.  On  the  evening  of  September 
23  they  camped  near  the  snow  line.  During  the  night 
it  turned  bitterly  cold  and  a  light  snow  fell,  and  when 
morning  arrived  they  discovered  that  several  of  their 
horses  had  died  from  the  exposure  and  their  gradual  loss 
of  vitality. 

Mr.  Matthieu's  horse,  however,  had  survived  and  in 
company  with  three '  or  four  others  he  pushed  on  to 
Oregon  City,  arriving  on  the  afternoon  of  September 
25.  Even  at  that  early  date  there  was  quite  a  settlement 
at  Oregon  City.  Among  those  who  had  homes  was  Rev. 
A.  F.  Waller,  of  the  immigration  of  1840.  True  to  the 
spirit  of  Western  hospitality,  Mr.  Waller  insisted  that 
the  new  arrivals  should  have  supper  at  his  house,  and, 
although  they  endeavored  to  persuade  him  that  they  were 
too  ragged  and  untidy  generally  to  go  into  a  home,  would 
take  no  refusal.  They  went  to  his  house,  the  kitchen 
and  sitting-room  being  one,  and  sat  by  a  huge  open  fire 
while  Mrs.  Waller  prepared  the  meal. 

In  relating  this  experience  Mr.  Matthieu  said : 

"Of  course  I  was  interested  in  Mr.  Waller's  descrip- 
tion of  the  new  country  we  were  in  and  of  its  prospects, 


192  FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON 

but  I  noticed  that  Mrs.  Waller  was  cooking  some  very 
large  potatoes — the  first  I  had  seen  for  two  years.  And 
when  their  aroma  arose  and  filled  the  room,  I  forgot 
all  about  Waller's  story  as  to  what  the  Willamette  valley 
offered  to  newcomers  and  was  only  interested  in  the 
perfection  which  potatoes  appeared  to  reach  in  its  appar- 
ently marvelous  soil. 

"Finally  supper  was  ready  and  we  took  our  places 
around  the  table,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  large  dish 
filled  and  piled  up  with  the  finest  potatoes  I  had  ever 
seen,  with  their  skins  on  and  their  white  sides  exposed  in 
a  way  that  was  tempting  beyond  endurance. 

"But  the  experience  of  the  next  few  minutes  was  the 
hardest  to  bear.  We  were  ready  for  the  fray,  or  at  least 
I  was — when,  to  my  disgust,  I  am  ashamed  to  say — Mr. 
Waller  leaned  forward  and  began  to  'say  grace.'  This 
I  had  not  expected,  and  while  it  did  not.  perhaps,  last 
longer  than  fifteen  minutes  it  appeared  to  me  that  he 
prayed  for  everything  from  Adam  to  the  missionaries 
at  Salem.  I  know  it  seemed  the  longest  'grace'  I  ever 
heard,  and  the  meal  that  followed  was  one  to  be  remem- 
bered for  many  a  day." 

Mr.  Matthieu.  who  made  many  trips  from  Vancouver 
to  Champoeg  by  water,  relates  that  in  those  days  the 
river  banks  where  Portland  now  stands  were  lined  with 
such  a  dense  growth  of  firs,  willows,  alder,  vine  maple 
and  thorn,  much  of  it  overhanging  the  water,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  land  a  canoe  anywhere  between  Guild's 
Lake  and  the  old  White  House. 

He  was  one  of  the  first  justices  of  the  peace  for 
Champoeg  County  when  its  boundaries  extended  from 
the  Willamette  River  to  the  "United  States."  wherever 
that  mystical  dividing  line  was,  and  he  says  that  since 
there  was  no  appeal  from  his  findings  he  feels  that  he 
should  have  the  pay  allowed  retired  members  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  though  he  does 
not  intend  to  test  the  matter  through  any  sort  of  litiga- 
tion. He  has  served  as  county  commissioner  of  Marion 
County,  two  terms  in  the  State  Legislature  and  for  many 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  193 

years  was  the  agent  of  Dr.  McLoughlin  for  the  purchase 
and  shipping  of  wheat  from  the  French  Prairie  country 
to  Oregon  City.  He  still  owns  his  beautiful  farm,  on 
which  he  settled  in  1846,  soon  after  his  marriage,  but  in 
recent  years  has  spent  his  winters  with  a  son  who  lives 
in  Portland.  He  is  the  father  of  fifteen  children,  seven 
of  whom  are  living. 

F.  X.  Matthieu  has  occupied  a  very  important  place 
in  the  history  of  Oregon,  his  motives  always  being 
patriotic  and  his  judgment  of  the  best.  He  is  as  good 
an  American  as  though  native-born  and  is  now,  in  his 
ninety-fourth  year,  as  keenly  interested  in  current  events 
as  ever.  He  is  entirely  free  from  the  tendency  to  become 
childish,  accepts  the  infirmities  of  age  with  surprising 
philosophy  and,  in  fact,  has  the  best  wishes  of  every 
man  and  woman  in  the  State,  of  which  he  may  justly 
be  called  a  founder. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  phrase  "owning  the  earth"  applied  with  ahnost 
no  exaggeration  to  those  who  came  to  Oregon  in  the 
'40's.  Not  only  were  there  no  owners  of  the  land  indi- 
vidually nor  of  the  country  as  a  whole,  but  there  were  no 
boundaries,  real  or  imaginary.  Mexico  was  on  the  soutli 
and  Canada  on  the  north.  To  the  east  there  was  no  legal 
obstacle  until  you  passed  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
even  then  the  farthest  stretches  of  the  Louisiana  Pur- 
chase were  indefinite. 

The  first  duty,  therefore,  which  loomed  large  before 
the  Legislative  Committee  was  to  stake  out  a  claim.  Any 
old  boundary  would  answer  the  purpose  and  unquestion- 
ably would  meet  with  no  opposition.  The  first  section  of 
the  organic  law  adopted  by  the  people  at  Champoeg  July 
5,  1843,  ^"^'^s  as  follows: 

For  the  purpose  of  temporary  government,  the 
Territory  shall  be  divided  into  not  less  than  three  nor 
more  than  five  districts,  subject  to  be  extended  to  a 
greater  number  when  the  population  shall  require  it. 

The  law  finally  adopted  provided  as  follows : 

First  District,  to  be  called  the  Tualitan  District, 
comprising  all  the  country  south  of  the  northern 
boundary  of  the  United  States,  west  of  the  Willamette 
or  Multnomah  River,  north  of  the  Yamhill  River  and 
east  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

Second  District,  to  be  called  the  Yamhill  District, 
embracing  all  the  country  west  of  the  Willamette 
or  Multnomah  River,  and  a  supposed  line  running 
north  and  south  from  said  river,  south  of  the  Yam- 
hill River,  to  the  parallel  of  forty-two  degrees  north 
latitude,  or  the  boundary  line  of  the  United  States 
and  California  and  east  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

194 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  195 

Third  District,  to  be  called  the  Clackamas  District, 
comprehending  all  territory  not  included  in  the  other 
three  districts. 

Fourth  District,  to  be  called  the  Champoeg  Dis- 
trict, and  bounded  on  the  north  by  a  supposed  line 
drawn  from  the  mouth  of  the  Haunchauke  River,  and 
a  supposed  line  running  due  east  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, east  of  the  Willamette  or  Multnomah  River, 
and  a  supposed  line  running  due  south  from  said 
river  to  the  parallel  of  forty-two  degrees  north  lati- 
tude, south  by  the  boundary  line  of  the  United  States 
and  California,  and  east  by  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

The  above  districts  to  be  designated  by  the  name  of 
Oregon  Territory. 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that,  in  order  to  keep  within 
their  "jurisdiction,"  if  they  had  any,  and  in  order,  also, 
that  they  might  not  contract  any  entangling  alliances 
with  foreign  nations,  the  following  oath  was  prescribed 
and  taken  by  the  members  of  the  Legislative  Committee 
and  other  officers :  "I  do  solemnly  swear  that  I  will 
support  the  organic  laws  of  the  provisional  government 
of  Oregon,  so  far  as  the  said  organic  laws  are  consistent 
with  my  duties  as  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  or  a  sub- 
ject of  Great  Britain,  and  faithfully  to  demean  myself 
in  office,  so  help  me  God."  On  June  5,  1845.  under  the 
requirements  of  the  amended  organic  law,  George  Aber- 
nethy  was  chosen  the  first  Governor  of  Oregon  and  was 
re-elected  in  June,  1847,  serving  until  the  territorial  gov- 
ernment w^as  established  by  Act  of  Congress  and  Oregon 
became  a  part  of  the  United  States. 

It  is  worth  observing,  in  passing,  that  the  organic  law 
adopted  July  5,  1843,  ^^  Champoeg  was  passed  upon  by 
"the  people  of  the  Willamette  valley  in  mass  convention," 
thus  inaugurating  the  "Oregon  System"  of  the  initiative 
and  referendum,  as  it  is  known  to-day  in  all  parts  of  the 
country,  at  "the  first  rattle  out  of  the  box."  Consider- 
ing that  we  had  a  pure  democracy  here  at  the  very  begin- 
ning it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  how  easily  we  accept 


196  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  principle  of  "direct  lei^islation"  whenever  it  is  pre- 
sented to  us  for  consideration. 

The  first  session  of  the  Legislature  under  the  pro- 
visional government  was  held  in  the  house  of  Theopholis 
McGruder.  and  convened  December  2,  1845.  Robert 
Newell  was  chosen  speaker,  J.  E.  Long,  clerk  and  the 
owner  of  the  house  was  elected  sergeant-at-arms.  The 
provisional  Legislature  consisted  of  but  one  House. 

No  matter  what  may  be  alleged  of  the  extravagance 
of  modern  Oregon  Legislatures,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  earliest  of  their  predecessors  w-as  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  economy.  For  instance,  on 
December  19,  1845.  Governor  Abernethy  approved  a 
law  which  contained  this  section : 

Section  2.  The  Governor  of  Oregon  is  hereby  au- 
thorized to  give  public  notice  throughout  Oregon, 
either  by  publishing  the  same  in  the  newspaper  or 
otherwise,  that  he  will  receive  sealed  proposals  from 
all  who  may  desire  to  give  donations  to  the  govern- 
ment for  the  purpose  of  erecting  public  buildings  and 
locating  the  seat  of  government — said  proposals  to 
state  the  amount  to  be  given  and  the  kind  of  property 
in  which  it  is  to  be  paid. 

Even  two  years  later,  on  December  7,  1847,  ^vhen  the 
Legislature  met  at  Oregon  City,  the  record  says  that 
Mr.  Hembree,  from  the  committee  appointed  to  pro- 
cure a  room,  reported  that  "the  room  now  occupied  by 
Mr.  Stephen  Meek  could  be  procured  for  one  dollar 
and  twenty-five  cents  a  day.  which  report  was  adopted." 
But  the  record  for  the  next  day  says  that  "upon  the 
motion  of  Mr.  Nesmith.  the  report  was  rejected." 

No  reason  is  assigned  for  this  apparently  disrespectful 
treatment  of  Mr.  Meek's  clever  and  patriotic  offer,  but 
the  House  "adjourned  to  meet  at  the  Methodist  Church 
in  twenty  minutes."  The  inference  from  this  is  that 
the  Methodist  Church  could  be  had  for  nothing,  and 
as  there  were  no  revenues  except  the  money  accumulat- 
ing from  voluntary  contributions,  the  matter  of  saving 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  197 

one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  a  day  for  the  rent  of 
a  Capitol  was  not  to  be  lightly  rejected. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  call  for  sealed  proposals 
for  donations  for  a  Capitol  were  to  be  published  in  "the 
newspaper."  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  at  that 
precise  date  there  was  no  newspaper  published  in  this 
entire  territory,  but  the  prospectus  for  the  Oregon 
Spectator  had  been  issued  and  it  was  understood  that 
there  would  be  a  newspaper  in  the  near  future.  In  fact, 
the  first  number  of  the  Spectator  was  issued  on  Thurs- 
day, February  5.  1846. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  session  of  1846  Mr.  Meek 
made  the  following  statement :  "Mr.  Speaker,  the  com- 
mittee appointed  to  procure  a  room  for  the  Legislature 
beg  to  report  that  they  have  discharged  their  duty 
by  examining  a  room  proposed  by  Mr.  Knighton  at  two 

dollars  a  day  and  one   by   Mr.    Card   at  a  day. 

Taking  everything  into  consideration,  we  recommend  the 
former." 

At  the  opening  of  the  session  of  1848,  Mr.  Craw- 
ford, of  Marion  County,  announced :  "Mr.  Speaker, 
your  committee,  to  whom  was  referred  the  procuring 
of  a  house  in  which  to  hold  the  present  session  of  the 
Legislature,  beg  leave  to  report  that  they  have  examined 
several  houses  and  have  decided  in  favor  of  the  one 
owned  by  G.  W.  Rice,  which,  together  with  the  wood 
for  the  session,  may  be  had  for  five  dollars  a  day  in 
scrip." 

At  least  it  may  be  said  that  here  was  a  sign  of 
progress,  since  the  lawmaking  body  was  willing  to  pay 
five  dollars  a  day  for  the  use  of  a  Capitol — the  wood 
in  those  days  amounting  to  very  little  for  one  room — 
and  Mr.  Card  was  willing  to  accept  the  paper  of  the 
government  in  liquidation  of  his  bill.  The  government 
was  on  the  up-grade ! 

On  July  20,  1849,  though  the  territorial  government 

was    fully   inaugurated,    the   resolution    was   introduced 

.  "That  a  committee  of  two  be  appointed  by  the  House, 

to  act  in  conjunction  with  a  like  committee  to  be  ap- 


198  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

pointed  by  the  Council,  to  inquire  into  the  expediency 
of  the  two  Houses  adjourning  until  after  harvest."  The 
resolution  was  adopted,  adjournment  was  had  on  the 
28th  and  the  two  Houses  re-convened  August  20.  It  is 
presumed  that  in  the  meantime  the  crops  had  been  safely 
garnered. 

The  journal  for  the  session  of  the  Legislative  Com- 
mittee, held  on  May  9.  1843.  recites  that  "the  House 
adjourned  by  uniting  in  prayer" — a  precedent  that 
should  by  all  means  be  followed  in  these  later  days,  in 
many  cases,  accompanied  by  fasting,  assuming  always, 
of  course,  that  the  efficacy  of  prayer  is  no  longer  a 
doubtful  proposition. 

On  June  30,  1845,  Mr.  Gray  presented  a  communica- 
tion from  Rev.  H.  Clark,  "resigning  his  position  as 
chaplain  of  the  House,"  and  on  the  following  day  Mr. 
Garrison  reported  that  "your  committee  appointed  to 
secure  a  chaplain  have  been  unable  to  find  any  person  to 
perform  the  duties  of  that  office." 

The  appropriation  bill  for  the  year  1845  amounted 
to  $1035, — $500  of  it  going  to  the  payment  of  the 
members.  $40  to  the  clerk  of  the  House  and  $20  to  the 
engrossing  clerk.  Incidentally,  it  may  be  remarked  that 
the  sums  expended  for  clerk  hire  during  the  recent  ses- 
sions of  the  Oregon  Legislature  have,  in  the  main,  some- 
what exceeded  this  amount. 

The  annual  session  of  the  Legislative  Committee  met 
at  the  house  of  J.  E.  Long,  in  Oregon  City,  December 
16,  1844.  when  the  territorial  treasurer  reported  the 
following  state  of  finances:  "Received  from  the  col- 
lector of  taxes.  $3,313.31  ;  for  license,  two  ferries,  $40; 
one  fine,  $5.  Total  receipts.  $3,358.31.  Expended  for 
stationery.  $20.38;  Judge  I'abcock's  salary,  $60;  services 
of  secretary  in  House,  $20.     Total.  $115.38." 

Marion  County,  the  home  of  Salem,  the  State  capital, 
w-as  called  Champoeg  County  until  the  territorial  Leg- 
islature changed  it  to  Marion  by  a  special  act  September 
3,  1849.  On  August  28,  the  same  year,  it  was  resolved 
that  "the  county  seat  of  Champoeg  County  be,  and  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  199 

same  is,  hereby  located  at  the  town  of  Salem,  in  said 
county."  In  the  early  records  the  word  is  spelled 
"Champoeg,"  *'Champoore,"  and  "Champooick." 

It  is  a  matter  to  be  regretted  that  the  name  of  that 
county  was  ever  changed.  It  is  an  Indian  name  and 
fully  as  euphonious  as  Multnomah,  Clatsop,  Clackamas 
or  Tillamook,  and  should  have  been  preserved  with 
them  as  a  link  perpetually  binding  the  State  and  its 
landmarks  with  the  early  efforts  and  associations  of 
our  fathers.  Of  course,  the  word  has  a  permanent  place 
in  Oregon  history,  not  only  by  reason  of  the  location 
where  the  first  organization  for  a  local  government  was 
held,  but  because  the  little  town  of  Champoeg  will  grow 
with  the  expansion  of  the  State's  population  and  will  be 
with  us  always. 

The  spelling  of  the  word  has  since  settled  down  to 
plain  "Champoeg,"  but  the  different  ways  of  pronounc- 
ing and  printing  it  in  the  early  days  may  be  easily 
accounted  for.  The  fact  is,  the  proper  spelling  of  an 
Indian  word  can  never  be  determined,  for  the  reason  that 
it  belongs  to  a  language  that  is  spoken  only.  To  attempt 
to  express  such  a  word  in  the  letters  of  the  English  lan- 
guage that  must  be  caught  by  the  ear  is  futile.  A  "buck" 
Indian  with  his  blankets  drawn  about  him,  the  upper 
rim  held  on  a  level  with  his  mouth,  expressing  his 
thoughts  in  guttural  sounds,  is  not  an  inspiration — or 
would  not  be — to  the  short-hand  reporter  who  wanted  to 
make  an  accurate  transcript  of  the  orator's  deliverance. 

On  the  Pacific  Coast  there  are  thousands  of  Indian 
words  which  have  been  Americanized  by  their  perma- 
nent adoption  as  the  names  of  places,  but  their  spelling 
has  been  settled  by  common  usage  only.  Indeed,  a 
language  that  has  no  written  expression  is  but  a  degree 
superior  in  its  intelligence  to  that  of  animals,  and  any 
extended  discussion  of  the  question  is  wholly  profitless. 

By  way  of  a  slight  digression,  it  may  be  here  re- 
marked that  the  gibberish  employed  by  many  of  our 
most  noted  actors  and  singers  is  little  more  intelligible 


200  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

than  the  grunts  and  "huh"  of  the  blanketed  Indians. 
Aluch  complaint  is  heard  of  the  small  audiences  which, 
in  the  United  States,  usually  greet  operatic  companies 
that  "perform"  in  foreign  languages,  rendering  beauti- 
ful and  famous  compositions  in  German,  French  and 
Italian,  when  the  average  man  has  a  very  natural  desire 
to  understand  the  accompanying  words  and  to  get  at 
least  some  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  production.  In 
order  to  appreciate  intelligently  the  effort  of  the  artist 
it  is  necessary  that  an  audience  should  have  some  inkling 
as  to  whether  the  emotion  portrayed  by  the  singer  is 
the  result  of  unrequited  love,  the  death  of  a  near  relative, 
or,  mayhap,  the  excessive  demonstration  of  joy  over  a 
wedding,  prospective  or  otherwise. 

But  all  this  is  left  to  mere  conjecture  when  the  words 
employed  are  Greek  to  the  listeners,  who  are  wondering 
why  it  was  not  all  avoided  in  the  first  place,  since  it  has 
caused  so  much  difficulty  and  misunderstanding.  It 
leaves  the  astonished  auditor  to  speculate  as  to  whether 
the  singer  is  controlled  by  fear,  joy  or  rage,  and  obliges 
those  of  the  assemblage  who  are  Americans  to  watch 
their  neighbors  of  foreign  extraction  to  get  the  cue 
before  they  can  summon  the  proper  emotion  for  the 
occasion. 

But  while  this  is  true,  did  you  ever  consider  that  we 
are  practically  in  the  same  dilemma  wdien  we  attend 
church  and  attempt  to  follow  the  choir  in  the  rendition 
of  the  words  accompanying  the  songs?  As  a  rule,  not 
one  word  in  a  dozen  can  be  distinguished,  and  as  to 
"following"  the  sentiment  which  it  is  assumed  they  are 
conveying,  it  is  out  of  the  question.  We  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  the  singing  by  our  church  choirs  is  not 
highly  appreciated,  for.  with  due  deference  to  the  pro- 
ductions of  our  able  and  eloquent  pastors,  the  singing 
is  one  of  the  very  best  features  of  the  average  church 
service,  but  it  leaves  much  to  the  imagination — except, 
of  course,  the  splendid  harmonies,  the  rich  crescendoes 
and  diminuendoes.  the  high  C's  and  pretty  hats,  which, 
happily,  do  not  succeed  in  fully  eclipsing  the  faces  of  the 


.'  •  K  ;  >; 


'  > '  5    >  ' 


o 

o 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  201 

female  singers,  beautiful  and  otherwise.  But  as  for 
the  song  itself,  it  might  as  well  be  rendered  in  Italian, 
since  the  congregation  must  rely  altogether  upon  the 
trusted  singers  to  execute  that  only  which  it  is  proper 
for  churchgoers  to  hear. 

The  truth  is  that  we  accept  many  things  in  this  life 
on  faith,  after  all.  The  frenzied  actor  who,  rushing  out 
on  the  stage,  pours  forth  a  torrent  of  incoherent 
words  at  the  rate  of  seven  hundred  a  minute,  simply 
stupefies  his  audience;  and  the  situation  is  not  a  whit 
relieved  by  the  assurance  that  he  is  raving  in  English, 
for  a  fit  thrown  in  French  would  probably  be  more  ap- 
propriate, and  certainly  as  intelligible. 

This  tendency  toward  the  use  of  gibberish,  with  the 
assumption  that  it  fully  gratifies  the  desires  of  an  ex- 
pectant public,  is  apparently  one  of  the  settled  features 
of  our  civilization.  The  brakeman  pokes  his  head  into 
the  rear  door  of  his  car  and  shouts  to  the  passengers 
that  the  next  station  will  be  "Scat-Zip."  and  the  average 
person  has  no  more  idea  what  the  next  station  wnll  really 
be  than  if  the  said  brakeman  were  an  Alaskan  totem 
pole.  And  an  interesting  phase  of  the  brakeman's  stunt 
is  that  he  appears  to  be  satisfied  that  he  has  performed 
a  duty  imposed  upon  him  by  his  superiors,  and  the 
question  whether  or  not  the  passengers  have  received 
any  information  seems  to  be  a  side  issue  wholly  un- 
worthy of  consideration. 

So  it  does  not  matter  so  much,  after  all,  whether  we 
sing  in  German.  French  or  Italian,  or  whether  we  under- 
stand it  at  all,  or  spell  it  Champoeg  or  Champooick, 
since  most  of  the  things  done  and  attempted  in  this 
life  leave  us  with  a  guess  coming  anyway. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

General  Joseph  Lane  became  the  first  Governor  of  the 
new  Territory  of  Oregon  by  Presidential  appointment, 
his  commission  being  dated  August  i8,  1848.  He  was 
a  resident  of  Indiana,  had  served  with  distinction  in 
the  Mexican  War  and  also  a  term  in  the  Legislature  of 
the  Hoosier  State.  He  was  born  in  Buncombe  County, 
North  Carolina,  December   14.   1801. 

He  came  to  Oregon  during  the  winter  of  1848.  travel- 
ing by  way  of  New  Mexico,  Arizona  and  California, 
and  arrived  at  Oregon  City,  the  territorial  capital, 
March  2,  having  pulled  an  oar  part  of  the  time  en  route 
from  Astoria.  On  March  3  he  wrote  and  issued  his 
proclamation,  and  on  March  4,  the  last  day  of  Presi- 
dent Polk's  administration,  was  sworn  in  and  assumed 
his  new  duties. 

From  that  day  until  his  retirement  from  his  short 
service  in  the  United  States  Senate  on  March  4,  1861, 
no  man  was  better  known  or  had  wider  influence  in  the 
Territory  than  he.  In  fact,  there  was  no  time  that  he 
was  not  holding  an  important  public  position,  either  by 
Presidential  appointment  or  by  the  suffrage  of  the 
people.  Whatever  "J^"  Lane  wanted  was  his  for  the 
asking. 

On  June  18,  1850.  he  resigned  his  position  as  Gov- 
ernor, assuming  that  he  had  been  superseded  by  the 
appointment  of  a  Whig,  since  General  Taylor  had  been 
elected  in  November.  1848,  and  it  was  not  a  part  of 
General  Lane's  make-up  to  be  caught  napping.  But 
for  once  his  anticipations  were  ill-founded  and  there 
was  an  interim  during  which  the  secretary  of  the  Terri- 
tory acted  as  the  Governor. 

On  June  2,  1851,  General  Lane  was  elected  as  the 
delegate  to  Congress.     After  serving  one  term  he  was 

202 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  203 

again  appointed  Governor  by  President  Pierce,  but  after 
qualifying  and  serving  for  three  days,  resigned  to 
become  again  the  Democratic  candidate  for  Congress. 
He  was  elected  and  was  continued  in  that  position  until 
his  election  as  one  of  the  first  United  States  Senators 
under  the  State  Constitution.  He  served  in  this  position 
from  February  14,  1859,  until  March  4.  During  the 
summer  of  i860  he  had  been  nominated  by  the  pro- 
slavery  wing  of  the  Democratic  party  for  Vice-presi- 
dent, as  the  running  mate  with  Breckinridge,  but  was 
defeated.  After  the  expiration  of  his  term  in  the  Senate 
he  retired  to  his  farm  in  the  Umpqua  valley,  which  had 
been  his  home  during  all  his  residence  in  Oregon,  and 
there  died  April  19,  1881,  aged  eighty  years. 

I  saw  General  Lane  at  the  State  Fair  grounds  at 
Salem  during  the  Pioneer  Meeting,  in  1879,  where, 
upon  the  invitation  of  the  people  who  were  present,  he 
delivered  a  short  address.  I  remember  that  even  at  his 
advanced  age  he  exhibited  that  same  nervous  spirit 
which  had  characterized  him  through  life,  whether  lead- 
ing a  charge  in  the  mountains  of  Mexico  or  planning  a 
convention  of  delegates. 

I  am  disposed  to  incorpate  here  an  extract  from  an 
address  by  Colonel  Nesmith,  in  which  he  gives  a  most 
interesting  account  of  a  meeting  with  the  Rogue  River 
Indians  at  the  close  of  the  war  with  them  in  1853,  the 
purpose  being  to  agree  upon  terms  of  peace.  It  not 
only  throws  an  interesting  side-light  upon  the  character 
of  General  Lane,  but  presents  another  instance  of  the 
dangers  which  the  early  settlers  encountered  in  the 
transformation  of  Oregon  into  a  peaceful  and  pros- 
perous State.     Colonel  Nesmith  said  in  his  address : 

The  accession  of  Captain  Smith's  company,  with 
my  own,  gave  General  Lane  a  force  sufficient  to  cope 
with  the  enemy,  then  supposed  to  be  about  seven 
hundred  strong.  The  encampment  of  the  Indians 
was  still  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  of  which  Table 
Rock  was  the  summit,  and  at  night  we  could  plainly  see 
their  camp-fires,  while  they  could  look  directly  upon 


204  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

us.  The  whole  command  was  wdUing  and  anxious  to 
fight,  but  General  Lane  had  pledged  the  Indians  that 
an  effort  should  be  made  to  treat  for  peace.  Super- 
intendent Palmer  and  Agent  Culver  were  upon  the 
ground.  The  armistice  had  not  yet  expired  and  the 
loth  was  the  time  fixed  for  the  council. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  General  Lane  sent  for 
me  and  desired  me  to  go  with  him  to  the  council 
ground,  inside  the  Indian  encampment,  to  act  as  inter- 
preter, as  I  was  master  of  the  Chinook  jargon.  I  asked 
the  General  upon  what  terms  and  where  we  were  to 
meet  the  Indians.  He  replied  that  the  agreement  was 
that  the  meeting  was  to  take  place  wMthin  the  encamp- 
ment of  the  enemy,  and  that  we  should  be  accom- 
panied by  ten  other  men  of  his  own  selection,  un- 
armed. Against  those  terms  I  protested,  telling  the 
General  that  I  had  traversed  that  country  five  years 
before  and  had  fought  those  same  Indians ;  that  they 
were  notoriously  treacherous,  and  in  early  times  had 
earned  the  name  of  "Rog.ues"  by  never  permitting 
a  white  man  to  escape  with  his  scalp  when  once  within 
their  power ;  that  I  knew  them  better  than  he  did,  and 
that  it  was  criminal  folly  for  eleven  unarmed  white 
men  to  place  themselves  voluntarily  within  the  power 
of  seven  hundred  well-armed  hostile  Indians,  within 
their  own  encampment. 

I  reminded  him  that  I  was  a  soldier  in  command 
of  a  company  of  cavalry,  and  was  ready  to  obey  his 
orders  to  lead  my  men  into  action  or  to  discharge  any 
soldierly  duty,  no  part  of  which,  however,  was  to  go 
into  the  enemy's  camp  as  an  unarmed  interpreter. 

The  General  listened  to  my  protest  and  replied  that 
he  had  fixed  the  terms  of  meeting  the  Indians  and 
would  keep  his  word,  and  that  if  I  was  afraid  to  go  I 
could  remain  behind.  When  he  put  it  upon  that 
ground  I  replied  that  I  thought  I  was  as  little  ac- 
quainted with  fear  as  he  was,  and  that  I  would  accom- 
pany him  to  what  I  feared  would  be  our  slaughter. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  September  lo,  1853,  we 
mounted  our  horses  and  set  out  in  the  direction  of 
the  Indian  encampment.  Our  party  consisted  of 
General  Joseph  Lane,  Joel  Palmer,  superintendent  of 
Indian  affairs,  Samuel  P.  Culver,  Indian  agent,  Cap- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  205 

tain  A.  J.  Smith,  and  several  others.  After  riding 
a  couple  of  miles  across  the  level  valley  we  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  mountains,  where  it  was  too  steep  for 
horses  to  ascend.  We  dismounted,  hitched  our  horses, 
and  after  scrambling  up  for  a  half  a  mile  over  huge 
rocks  and  through  brush,  found  ourselves  within  the 
Indian  stronghold,  just  under  the  perpendicular  cliff 
of  Table  Rock,  surrounded  by  seven  hundred  fierce 
and  well-armed  hostile  savages,  arrayed  in  all  their 
gorgeous  war-paint  and  feathers. 

Captain  Smith  had  drawn  out  his  company  of  dra- 
goons and  left  them  in  line  on  the  plain  below.  It  was 
a  bright,  beautiful  morning  and  the  Rogue  River 
valley  lay  at  our  feet  like  a  panorama :  the  exact  line 
of  dragoons,  sitting  statue-like  on  their  horses,  with 
their  white  belts  and  burnished  scabbards  and  car- 
bines, looked  as  if  engraved  upon  a  picture,  while  a 
few  paces  in  our  rear  the  huge  perpendicular  wall  of 
Table  Rock  towered  frowningly  many  hundred  feet 
above. 

The  business  of  the  treaty  commenced  at  once. 
Long  speeches  were  made  by  General  Lane  and  Super- 
intendent Palmer,  which  had  to  be  translated  twice. 
When  an  Indian  spoke  the  Rogue  River  tongue  it  was 
translated  by  an  Indian  interpreter  into  Chinook  for 
me,  when  I  translated  it  into  English.  When  Lane  or 
Palmer  spoke  the  process  was  reversed.  This  double 
translation  of  long  speeches  made  the  labor  tedious  and 
it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  treaty  was  com- 
pleted and  signed. 

In  the  meantime,  an  episode  occurred  which  came 
near  terminating  the  treaty,  as  well  as  the  representa- 
tion of  one  of  the  "high  contracting"  parties  in  a 
sudden  and  tragic  manner.  About  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  a  young  Indian  came  running  into  camp 
stark  naked  and  with  the  perspiration  running  from 
every  pore.  After  making  a  brief  harangue  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  ground,  apparently  exhausted.  As 
his  speech  had  created  a  great  tumult  amongst  his 
tribe,  General  Lane  told  me  to  inquire  of  the  Indian 
interpreter  the  cause  of  the  commotion.  The  Indian 
responded  that  a  company  of  white  men  on  Applegate 
Creek,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Owen,  had  that 


2o6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

morning  captured  an  Indian  known  as  Jim  Taylor,  tied 
him  to  a  tree  and  shot  him  to  death.  The  hubbub  and 
confusion  among  the  Indians  at  once  became  intense 
and  murder  gleamed  from  each  savage  eye.  The  In- 
dian interpreter  told  me  that  the  Indians  were  threat- 
ening to  tie  us  up  to  trees  and  serve  us  as  Owen's 
men  had  served  Jim  Taylor.  I  saw  some  Indians 
gathering  up  lasso  ropes,  while  others  drew  the  skin 
covers  from  their  guns  and  wiping-sticks  from  their 
muzzles.  There  appeared  to  be  a  strong  probability 
that  our  party  would  be  subjected  to  a  sudden  volley. 

I  explained  as  briefly  as  I  could  what  the  inter- 
preter had  communicated  to  me,  and  in  order  to  keep 
our  people  from  huddling  together  and  thus  making  a 
better  target  for  the  savages  I  used  a  few  English 
words  not  likely  to  be  understood  by  the  Indian  inter- 
preter, such  as  "disperse"  and  "segregate."  In  fact, 
we  kept  so  close  to  the  savages  and  so  far  separated 
from  one  another  that  any  firing  must  have  been  nearly 
as  fatal  to  the  Indians  as  to  the  whites. 

While  I  admit  I  thought  my  time  had  come  and  hur- 
riedly thought  of  wife  and  children,  I  noticed  nothing 
but  coolness  among  my  companions.  General  Lane  sat 
on  a  log  with  one  arm  bandaged  in  a  sling,  the  lines 
about  his  mouth  rigidly  compressing  his  lips,  while  his 
eyes  flashed  fire.  He  asked  brief  questions  and  gave 
sententious  answers  to  what  little  the  Indians  said  to 
us.  Captain  Smith,  who  was  prematurely  gray-haired 
and  was  afflicted  with  snappy  eyes,  leaned  upon  his 
cavalry  saber  and  looked  anxiously  down  upon  his 
well-formed  line  of  dragoons  in  the  valley  below.  His 
eyes  snapped  more  vigorously  than  usual  and  muttered 
words  escaped  from  under  the  white  mustache  of  the 
old  dragoon  that  did  not  sound  like  prayers.  His 
squadron  looked  beautiful,  but,  alas!  they  could  render 
us  no  service. 

I  sat  down  on  a  log  close  by  old  Chief  Joe,  and  hav- 
ing a  sharp  hunting  knife  under  my  shirt  kept  one 
hand  near  the  handle,  determined  that  there  should  be 
one  Indian  made  "good"  about  the  time  the  firing 
commenced. 

But  in  a  few  moments  General  Lane  stood  up  and 
began  to  speak  very  slowly  and  distinctly.     He  said : 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  207 

"Owens,  who  has  violated  the  armistice  and  killed  Jim 
Taylor,  is  a  bad  man.  He  is  not  one  of  my  soldiers. 
When  I  catch  him  he  shall  be  punished.  I  promised 
in  good  faith  to  come  into  your  camp  with  ten  other 
unarmed  men  to  secure  peace.  Myself  and  men  are 
placed  within  your  power;  I  do  not  believe  you  are 
such  cowardly  dogs  as  to  take  advantage  of  our  un- 
armed condition.  I  know  that  you  have  the  power  to 
murder  us  and  can  do  so  as  quickly  as  you  please ;  but 
what  good  will  our  blood  do  you?  Our  murder  will 
anger  our  friends  and  your  tribe  will  be  hunted  from 
the  earth.  Let  us  proceed  with  out  treaty,  and  instead 
of  having  war  have  lasting  peace."  Much  more  was 
said  in  this  strain  by  the  General,  all  rather  defiant  and 
nothing  of  a  begging  character.  The  excitement  grad- 
ually subsided  after  Lane  promised  to  give  a  fair 
compensation  for  the  defunct  Jim  Taylor  in  shirts  and 
blankets. 

The  treaty  of  September  10,  1853,  was  completed 
and  signed,  and  peace  restored  for  the  next  two  years. 
Our  party  wended  its  way  down  the  rocks  to  w-here  our 
horses  were  tied  and  mounted.  Old  A.  J.  Smith  gal- 
loped up  to  his  squadron  and  gave  a  brief  order.  The 
bugle  sounded  a  note  or  two  and  the  squadron  wheeled 
and  trotted  off  to  camp.  As  General  Lane  and  party 
rode  across  the  valley,  we  looked  up  and  saw  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  gilding  the  summit  of  Table  Rock.  I 
drew  a  long  breath  and  remarked  to  the  General  that 
the  next  time  he  wanted  to  go  into  a  hostile  camp  un- 
armed he  must  hunt  up  some  one  besides  myself  to  act 
as  his  interpreter.  With  a  benignant  smile  he  re- 
marked :    "Bless  you.  sir,  luck  is  better  than  science." 

On  account  of  his  extreme  sympathy  with  the  South 
through  the  war  General  Lane  was  bitterly  hated  by 
many  of  our  people  during  that  period.  His  advocacy 
of  slavery  had  divided  the  Democratic  party  in  Oregon 
for  several  years  before  the  affair  at  Fort  Sumter, 
w^hich  resulted  in  his  downfall  politically.  One  of  his 
most  influential  opponents  in  his  own  party  was  Colonel 
Nesmith  himself,  his  successor  in  the  United  States 
Senate,  but  long  before  he  died  former  animosities  were 


2o8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

forgotten  and  he  and  Nesmith  were  the  same  cordial 
friends  as  of  yore. 

Lane  was  a  born  general  and  politician,  at  home  either 
in  the  field  of  diplomacy  or  where  shot  and  shell  were 
laying  their  victims  low.  It  was  said  at  the  time  he 
secured  the  passage  of  the  enabling  act  which  aihnitted 
Oregon  into  the  Union  that  the  representation  of  the 
extent  of  our  population,  notoriously  below  the  legal 
requirement,  was  so  ''manipulated"  by  him.  having  in 
view  his  election  to  the  Senate  as  a  consequence,  that  his 
constituents,  although  rejoicing  in  his  triumph,  were 
ashamed  to  look  one  another  in  the  face  for  a  full  year 
afterward.  I  distinctly  remember  hearing  my  father 
and  his  neighbors  discussing  the  wonderful  feat  and  de- 
nouncing Lane,  whom  they  disliked,  since  they  had 
"split"  with  him  on  the  slavery  question. 

His  opponents  used  to  enjoy  relating  the  following 
story  at  his  expense,  to  illustrate  his  vein  of  diplomacy 
in  the  political  realm. 

He  was  returning  to  his  home  in  the  Umpqua  valley, 
after  an  absence  of  a  year  in  Congress,  when  he  stopped 
at  a  house  but  three  miles  from  his  own  to  exchange 
greetings — for  he  was  a  candidate  for  re-election.  Mrs. 
Smith  was  at  home,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation 
told  him  of  a  new  variety  of  cucumbers  she  had  raised 
the  year  before,  giving  him  a  handful  to  take  home  for 
his  own  planting.  With  that  engaging  politeness  which 
he  always  exhibited,  especially  toward  the  women,  he 
accepted  them  and  thanked  her  profusely,  after  again 
inquiring  after  the  welfare  of  the  men  folks,  who  were 
out  in  the  field. 

When  he  arrived  within  a  mile  of  home,  passing 
another  neighbor's  house,  he  stopped  to  show  his  good 
will  and  the  great  esteem  in  which  he  held  the  family — 
for  there  were  three  voters  who  belonged  there — and 
as  he  started  away  he  said :  "By  the  way,  Mrs.  Jones. 
here  is  a  package  of  cucumber  seeds  which  I  brought  all 
the  way  from  Washington  for  you  folks,  and  they  are 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  209 

said  to  be  the  best  variety  known  and  remarkable  for  the 
great  amount  they  yield." 

Mrs.  Jones  accepted  them  with  expressed  pleasure, 
saying:  "Well.  I  declare,  if  these  seeds  aren't  done  up 
in  a  piece  of  calico  just  like  that  dress  Polly  Smith  had 
last  summer!" 

But  the  old  General,  who  was  solicitously  inquiring 
about  Tom  and  Ben,  pretended  not  to  hear  the  remark 
about  the  singular  coincidence. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIl 

One  morning  in  the  spring  of  1859,  when  our  home 
\vas  in  Silverton,  twelve  miles  east  of  Salem,  as  I  was 
playing  in  a  thicket  of  hazel  bushes  back  of  the 
barn  in  company  with  the  Wolfard  children — we  were 
trying  to  locate  the  nest  of  some  wrens  which  were 
flying  about  and  filling  the  air  with  their  musical  chat- 
tering— we  heard  a  cannon  booming  in  the  direction  of 
Salem.  Perhaps  I  should  have  said  the  cannon,  for 
I  have  understood  since  that  there  was  but  one  in  Salem 
at  that  time.  At  once  T  ran  into  the  house  and  in  an 
excited  manner  inquired  of  my  mother  why  the  cannon 
was  being  fired,  for  at  other  times  we  had  heard  it  at 
Salem  and  had  learned  that  it  always  meant  the  hap- 
pening of  some  event  out  of  the  ordinary. 

My  mother  replied  that  Oregon  had  been  admitted 
to  the  Union,  and  that  hereafter  it  would  not  be  a 
territory  but  a  state.  As  I  remember  it  now,  I  under- 
stood what  the  difference  was,  in  a  vague  sort  of  way, 
having  been  studying  the  matter  in  my  geography 
lessons,  but  T  do  not  recall  that  I  had  any  knowledge 
of  the  effort  to  effect  the  change.  T  remember  very 
well,  however,  that  immediately  T  asked  my  mother  what 
the  new  name  of  the  Territory  would  be — seeming  to 
have  the  notion  that  the  transition  of  a  territory  into 
a  state  had  something  of  a  nature  of  a  matrimonial 
affair,  in  which  the  bride  comes  through  with  an  entirely 
new  name.  And  I  also  recall  distinctly  the  feeling  of 
disappointment  T  felt  when  I  was  told  that  its  name 
would  not  be  changed  at  all.  T  resumed  my  quest  for 
the  nest  of  the  elusive  wrens  in  a  decidedly  despondent 
frame  of  mind — of  temporary  duration,  however — over 
the  evidence  I  had  had  that  the  birth  of  a  state  was  an 
event  without  significance  and  entirely  void  of  interest. 

210 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  211 

The  Constitutional  Convention  had  met  in  Salem  on 
August  17,  1857,  in  accordance  with  the  provisions  of 
an  act  of  the  territorial  Legislature,  passed  on  the 
twelfth  day  of  the  preceding  December,  authorizing 
a  convention  to  be  held.  It  was  a  body  of  remarkable 
men — all  in  their  intellectual  and  physical  prime,  full  of 
laudable  purposes  and  the  determination  to  accomplish 
them.  When  the  Convention  was  called  to  order,  A.  L. 
Lovejoy,  one  of  the  founders  of  Portland,  was  elected 
temporary  president,  on  motion  of  Mathew  P.  Deady,  who 
himself  was  afterwards  made  the  permanent  president. 

Mr.  Deady  w^as  afterwards  appointed  United  States 
District  Judge  for  the  State  of  Oregon  and  for  twenty 
years  occupied  that  exalted  and  responsible  position — 
until  his  death,  indeed — acquiring  a  reputation  for  a 
profound  knowledge  of  the  law  and  distinguished  by  the 
upright  discharge  of  the  •onerous  duties  resting  upon 
him. 

The  next  motion  was  made  by  Lafayette  Grover  for 
the  choice  of  a  secretary.  Mr.  Grover's  career,  notable 
because  of  the  many  high  positions  he  afterward  held 
in  the  new  State,  has  already  been  noticed  in  these 
pages. 

The  third  motion  was  made  by  Hon.  Reuben  P.  Boise, 
providing  for  the  appointment  of  a  credentials  com- 
mittee. Mr.  Boise  lived  to  be  ninety  years  of  age, 
serving  the  people  of  Oregon  almost  continuously  for 
fifty  years  in  either  the  Circuit  or  Supreme  Court,  and 
only  retired  when  he  was  past  eighty-five  years  of  age, 
full  of  honors  and  bearing  the  esteem  of  all  our  people. 

The  fourth  motion  was  made  by  Hon.  George  H. 
Williams,  referring  to  the  allotment  of  seats.  Judge 
Williams  afterwards  served  the  people  in  the  United 
States  Senate,  and  for  four  years  afterwards  was  At- 
torney General  of  the  LTnited  States  in  the  Cabinet  of 
President  Grant.  He  lived  to  be  eighty-seven  years 
of  age  and  passed  away  in  1910.  During  the  last  twentv 
years  of  his  life  he  was  universally  known  as  "Oregon's 
grand  old  man." 


212  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  fifth  motion  was  made  by  Hon.  James  K.  Kelly, 
a  lawyer  of  great  learning,  who  afterward  served  a 
term  in  the  United  States  Senate  and  lived  to  a  ripe 
old  age.  He  was  at  one  time  a  member  of  the  State 
Senate,  declined  an  appointment  as  United  States 
District  Attorney,  offered  him  by  Attorney  General 
Jeremiah  S.  Black,  and  was  afterward  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Oregon  Supreme  Court. 

These  five  motions  having  been  made  and  disposed 
of  by  the  Convention,  that  body  adjourned  until  the 
following  morning.  It  was  an  official  gathering  of  sixty 
men  whose  pioneer  methods  were  in  evidence  at  all 
stages  of  their  proceedings.  It  was  soon  resolved  that 
the  daily  sessions  should  begin  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  this  resolution  was  carried  out  to  the 
letter. 

Before  the  first  week  had  elapsed  the  question  of  re- 
porting the  proceedings  of  the  Convention  came  up  for 
consideration.  The  expense  of  it  was  a  stumbling- 
block,  for,  be  it  remembered,  it  was  but  ten  years 
previous  that  the  territorial  Legislature  had  refused 
to  appropriate  money  for  the  purpose  of  building  a  jail, 
for  the  reason  that  the  "state  of  the  finances  would  not 
permit  it." 

A  committee  was  appointed  to  confer  with  a  compe- 
tent reporter  as  to  the  expense  of  such  work,  which, 
by  Hon.  Delazon  Smith,  chairman,  reported  as  foUow^s : 

Mr.  Pearne  proposed  to  your  committee  that  he 
would  report  speeches  and  other  proceedings  of  this 
body  one-third  of  the  time  of  its  sittings  for  the  period 
of  thirty  days  for  the  sum  of  three  hundred  dollars. 
To  the  application  of  your  committee  Mr.  Malone  re- 
turned the  following  answer  in  writing:  Both  Mr. 
Pearne  and  Mr.  Malone,  if  employed  by  the  Conven- 
tion to  report  its  proceedings,  expect  and  agree  to 
look  for  their  compensation  to  the  sources  specified 
in  the  resolution  under  which  your  committee  was 
appointed. 

This  report  was  adopted,  when  David  Logan,  after- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  213 

ward  three  times  the  RepubHcan  candidate  for  Con- 
gress, but  on  each  occasion  defeated  by  a  very  small 
margin,  offered  this  substitute : 

Resolved,  That  it  is  inexpedient  to  have  the  proceed- 
ings of  this  Convention  reported  at  the  expense  of 
either  the  Territory  or  the  State. 

Resolved,  That  a  committee  of  three  be  appointed 
to  employ  competent  persons  to  report  the  proceed- 
ings and  debates  of  this  Convention ; 

Provided,  Said  reporters  shall  receive  no  compensa- 
tion except  such  as  may  be  paid  by  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment or  by  the  individual  members  of  the  Convention ; 

And  provided  further,  That  in  case  such  expense 
is  paid  by  the  members  of  the  Convention,  each  mem- 
ber shall  pay  in  proportion  to  the  amount  or  bulk  re- 
ported for  him,  to  be  estimated  by  the  reporter  and 
approved  by  the  Convention. 

Mr.  Smith  then  withdrew  his  motion  and  Mr.  Logan 
his  proposed  substitute;  but  it  should  be  said  of  this 
last  proposition  by  Mr.  Logan  that,  if  adopted  and  en- 
forced in  some  Oregon  Legislatures  I  have  known,  many 
members  would  have  emerged  from  their  experience 
hopelessly  bankrupt — no  matter  what  the  condition  of 
their  personal  exchequers. 

How  the  question  was  settled  is  not  given  in  the 
proceedings.  It  has  always  been  a  matter  of  deep  re- 
gret that  the  debates  in  that  distinguished  body  were 
not  reported,  if  not  in  full,  at  least  in  some  measure, 
for  in  after  years  matters  of  far-reaching  importance 
have  been  the  source  of  disturbing  differences  between 
the  people  and  of  vexation  in  the  courts  because  of  the 
lack  of  any  definite  information  as  to  the  intention  of 
the  framers  of  the  Constitution  concerning  them. 

For  instance,  the  question  of  salaries  of  State  officers 
has  caused  discussion,  since  the  Constitution  plainly  says 
that  the  Governor  "shall  have  a  salary  of  one  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  per  annum" ;  but  for  the  past 
twenty  years  that  officer  has  been  allowed  more  than 
twice  that  sum  by  indirection,  the  method  pursued  being 


214  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

to  allow  him  additional  amounts  for  his  services  as  a 
member  of  different  boards,  whose  duties  are  plainly 
a  part  of  his  constitutional  obligations  as  the  chief 
executive  officer  of  the  State. 

Most  of  the  other  State  officers,  including  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Supreme  Court,  were  subject  to  this  pro- 
vision, but  the  amount  was  so  glaringly  insufficient  that 
an  easy  construction  of  the  clause  has  been  to  the  effect 
that  it  meant  the  Governor  should  have  at  least  one 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  He  should  have 
that  much,  said  the  Constitution,  and.  by  inference,  as 
much  more  as  the  Legislature  might  see  proper  to 
allow. 

Recently,  however,  the  entire  matter  of  salaries  has 
been  adjusted  by  the  enactment  of  a  "Flat  Salary  Law," 
by  the  terms  of  \vhich  the  f|uestion  has  finally  been 
placed  beyond  the  pale  of  cavil. 

Taken  as  a  whole,  however,  the  Constitution  formed 
by  the  Fathers  of  Oregon  in  1857  ^^^  stood  the  test 
well.  There  has  never  l^een  a  constitutional  conven- 
tion held  since,  and  it  was  not  amended  in  any  par- 
ticular for  more  than  forty  years,  though  several 
attempts  to  do  so  were  made.  Until  recent  years  the 
people  have  shown  a  sort  of  reverence  for  the  old  in- 
strument that  in  some  instances  has  been  quite  remark- 
able. Even  to-day  it  contains  a  clause  which  prohibits  free 
negroes  living  in  the  State,  and  this  requirement  was 
so  palpably  absurd  since  the  Civil  War  amendments 
to  the  Federal  Constitution  were  adopted,  that  a  proposi- 
tion was  made  about  ten  years  ago  to  rescind  this  sur- 
vival of  the  days  of  slavery;  but  the  people  refused  by 
an  overwhelming  majority  to  abolish  the  free  negro 
clause.  It  stands  to-day.  notwithstanding  the  broad 
scope  of  the  "Oregon  System"  in  the  matter  of  "doing 
things"  to  the  Constitution  of  the  State. 

The  only  record  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Oregon 
Constitutional  Convention  in  existence,  or  which  was 
ever  made,  consists  of  a  small  pamphlet  of  one  hundred 
pages,  containing  but  a  bare  recital  of  the  motions  made 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  215 

and  their  purport.  The  opinions  of  the  men  who  were 
its  framers  are  seldom  given,  even  in  brief.  It  is 
recorded,  however,  that  when  the  Convention  tried  for 
several  days,  without  success,  to  settle  satisfactorily  the 
matter  of  salaries,  Mr.  Watkins,  of  Josephine  County, 
offered  this  resolution  : 

Resolved,  That  in  the  opinion  of  this  Convention, 
twelve  dollars  and  fifty  cents  is  an  ample  salary  for 
the  Governor,  provided  that  after  the  good  old  school- 
master fashion,  he  boards  around,  and  that  the  com- 
mittee of  the  whole  be  instructed  so  to  report. 

But  the  effort  of  Mr.  Watkins  in  the  interest  of  public 
economy  was  defeated  and  the  question  was  submitted 
for  further  consideration. 

The  Convention  adjourned  sine  die  on  the  afternoon 
of  Setember  18,  having  been  in  session  just  thirty  days. 
The  delegates  constituted  a  body  of  especially  able  and 
level-headed  men.  many  of  them  lacking  education,  but 
endowed  with  a  remarkable  sense  of  justice  and  moved 
by  a  sincere  desire  to  give  their  posterity  an  organic  law 
which  should  successfully  stand  whatever  strain  might  be 
put  upon  it  in  years  to  come. 

After  the  lapse  of  nearly  fifty-four  years,  as  these 
lines  are  written — May  31,  191 1 — William  H.  Pack- 
wood,  a  member  of  that  body  from  Curry  County,  now 
a  resident  of  Baker  City,  alone  survives. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

My  parents  were  married  at  the  home  of  my  mother 
on  Howell's  prairie,  seven  miles  east  of  Salem,  on 
October  14,  1848.  My  father  was  one  month  past 
twenty  years  of  age  and  my  mother  lacked  a  month  of 
being  fifteen.  But  the  reader  should  not  be  too  free 
in  his  denunciation  of  such  a  proceeding,  for,  really,  my 
mother  was  getting  along  in  years — approaching  the 
period  of  old  maidhood.  in  fact — when  compared  with 
many  of  the  girls  who  married  in  Oregon  in  those  days. 

It  was  not  unusual  for  a  girl  to  enter  the  married 
state  at  the  age  of  twelve,  and  I  recall  one  instance  where 
the  parents  of  a  girl  of  ten  years  consented  to  her  mar- 
riage to  a  man  ten  years  her  senior  (  !)  and  the  cere- 
mony was  duly  celebrated.  Congress  had  passed  the 
Donation  Land  Act  in  September,  1850,  by  the  terms 
of  which  every  man  and  his  wife  were  permitted  to  "take 
up"  a  mile  square  of  land — six  hundred  and  forty  acres 
— and  it  was  this  incentive  which  induced  so  many 
youthful  marriages.  In  the  case  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred, an  agreement  was  made  by  the  groom  to  permit 
the  wife  to  remain  with  her  parents  until  she  had  arrived 
at  the  age  of  womanhood,  say  twelve  years;  but  the  fact 
was  he  took  her  home  with  him  w'ithin  a  year  after  the 
marriage — and  "they  lived  together  happily  ever  after- 
ward." Indeed,  many  of  their  children  were  my  school- 
mates in  after  years. 

Immediately  after  their  marriage  my  parents  settled 
on  a  claim  just  across  the  Willamette  River  from  Cham- 
poeg,  where  my  father  worked  much  of  the  time  during 
the  next  two  years  at  cutting  logs  and  rafting  them 
down  the  river  to  Oregon  City.  When  the  Donation 
Land  Act  was  passed,  however,  he  decided  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  it.  He  at  once  went  to  the  Waldo  Hills,  in 
Marion  County,  and  located  a  claim  two  miles  south- 

216 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  217 

east  of  the  homestead  of  Daniel  Waldo,  the  first  settler 
anywhere  in  that  section,  after  whom  that  famous  part 
of  Oregon  was  named. 

Here  my  father  proceeded  to  build  a  small  house,  in 
which,  four  months  afterward,  my  eyes  first  saw  the 
light  of  day.  Not  in  any  region  of  the  United  States 
is  there  a  more  beautiful  country  than  the  Waldo  Hills. 
Diversified  with  rolling,  scattering  groves  of  oak,  ash, 
fir  and  other  timber,  with  abundant  streams  of  running 
water  for  every  farm,  fertile  soil  adapted  to  the  pro- 
duction of  nearly  every  article  of  food  known  to  this 
zone,  with  the  Cascade  Mountains  on  the  east  and  the 
Coast  Range  on  the  west  forming  the  horizon  in  either 
direction,  and  the  great  peaks,  Hood,  Ranier,  Adams 
and  Jefferson  always  in  view,  "The  Hills"  never  fail 
to  charm  the  visitor  and  furnish  a  picture  enchanting 
to  those  fortunate  enough  to  reside  there. 

This  is  a  good  time  and  place  to  say  a  few  words 
about  Daniel  Waldo,  one  of  the  best  known  of  the  very 
early  Oregon  pioneers,  and  a  man  of  great  force  of 
character.  He  was  born  in  Indiana,  but  when  barely  of 
age,  moved  down  to  Missouri,  where  he  engaged  in  the 
sawmill  business  for  a  few  years.  There  he  married 
and  soon  afterward  went  to  southwestern  Missouri,  to 
what  was  popularly  known  as  the  "Platte  Purchase," 
where  he  engaged  in  stock  raising  and  general  farming. 

He  had  left  Indiana  on  account  of  the  prevalence  of 
the  fever  and  ague,  but  he  discovered,  after  acquiring 
a  splendid  tract  of  two  thousand  four  hundred  acres  in 
the  Platte  Purchase,  that  the  dread  scourge  flourished  in 
that  section  with  an  effect  equally  deadly.  After  suffering 
from  the  debilitating  ravages  of  this  most  relentless 
enemy  of  humankind,  the  winter  of  1842  arrived,  bring- 
ing with  it  an  active  discussion  of  the  opportunities 
offered  in  far-away  Oregon  for  rich  lands  and  a  more 
salubrious  climate.  The  advisability  of  going  to 
Oregon  in  the  spring  had  been  considered  by  the  family 
and  the  decision  made  to  join  the  company  which  was 
about  to  form  for  the  great  westward  journey. 


2i8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

One  clay  in  January.  1843.  ^^^-  Waldo,  upon  his 
return  from  the  little  store  where  the  neighbors  were 
accustomed  to  congregate  occasionally,  announced  to  his 
wife  that  he  had  about  decided  to  abandon  his  intention  of 
going  to  Oregon — that  they  had  been  discussing  the 
matter  at  the  store — that  there  were  no  roads  out  that 
way.  no  bridges,  on  which  to  cross  the  rivers,  hostile 
Indians  were  on  every  hand,  ready  to  murder  them — 
in  short,  most  of  the  boys  had  about  decided  to  post- 
pone the  trip  for  a  few  years,  at  least,  until  the  prospects 
were  more  encouraging,  etc. 

To  all  of  this  Mrs.  Waldo  listened  without  offering 
any  interruption,  the  while  washing  the  supper  dishes. 
When  he  had  finished,  and  assumed  that  he  had  dis- 
missed the  case,  his  wife  poured  out  the  dishwater,  and 
while  she  dried  the  pan  with  a  cloth,  using  more  speed 
and  vigor  than  usual,  she  said: 

"Well,  Dan  Waldo,  if  you  want  to  stay  here  another 
summer  and  shake  your  liver  out  with  the  fever  and 
ague,  you  can  do  it ;  but  in  the  spring  I  am  going  to 
take  the  children  and  go  to  Oregon,  Indians  or  no 
Indians.  They  can't  be  any  worse  than  the  chills  and 
fever!" 

The  result  was  that  the  matter  of  going  to  Oregon 
was  "compromised"  between  husband  and  wife  and  the 
trip  was  pulled  off  according  to  schedule. 

In  the  company  of  the  Applegates,  who  were  their 
neighbors  in  Missouri,  the  Waldos  made  the  trip  to  the 
Willamette  valley  in  the  summer  of  1843.  being  mem- 
bers of  the  first  train  that  ever  brought  wagons  across 
the  Cascade  Mountains.  Upon  his  arrival  Mr.  Waldo 
at  once  proceeded  to  the  Mission  below  Salem,  for  in 
those  days  there  was  no  other  place  to  go.  He  had 
brought  with  him  about  one  hundred  head  of  cows — 
a  fortune  in  itself  at  that  time — and  was  in  search  of 
grazing  and  farming  lands. 

The  Mission  was  on  a  river  bottom,  a  location  which 
suggested  fever,  chills  and  quinine  to  Mrs.  Waldo,  and, 
not  understanding  that  the  ague  is  not  known  in  Oregon 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  219 

in  any  altitude,  the  thought  of  locating  there  was  re- 
jected at  once.  But  it  was  a  large  country,  with  almost 
the  earth  to  choose  from.  The  next  morning  after  his 
arrival  Waldo,  seeing  through  the  smoky  atmosphere  a 
low  range  of  hills  off  to  the  eastward,  after  his  break- 
fast mounted  a  horse  and  rode  in  that  direction.  For 
the  first  three  miles  he  traveled  over  a  level  prairie,  but 
after  that  he  rode  into  the  foothills,  where  a  land  which 
suggested  the  "flowing  of  milk  and  honey"  was  spread 
out  before  him.  He  rode  on  until,  by  a  singular  coinci- 
dence, near  where  the  town  of  Aumsville  now  stands,  he 
found  a  man  named  Burroughs  whom  he  had  known  in 
Missouri,  living  in  a  tent  and  trapping  beaver.  After  a 
little  talk.  Burroughs  told  Waldo  that  a  few  miles  to 
the  north  there  was  a  location  in  the  midst  of  a  natural 
amphitheatre,  with  a  spring  of  water  coming  to  the 
surface  at  the  root  of  a  huge  fir  tree,  with  mighty  oaks 
near  by,  and  thousands  of  acres  of  rolling  land  stretch- 
ing in  every  direction,  covered  everywhere  with  native 
grass,  knee  high.  And  to  this  they  went,  Waldo  de- 
ciding at  once  that  it  was  the  very  place  for  which 
he  had  been  searching  since  he  was  a  boy. 

In  the  summer  of  1844  Mr.  Waldo  built  the  log  house 
which  served  as  his  home  until  1853.  when  he  built 
the  substantial  frame  structure  which  is  a  well-preserved 
farmhouse  to-day.  This  log  house,  however,  still  stands 
just  as  it  was  built  sixty-seven  years  ago.  Not  long 
since  I  stood  within  its  sacred  walls  and,  with  uncovered 
head,  listened  in  imagination  to  the  voices  of  the  past. 
Around  the  hospitable  fireplace — of  which  the  generous 
aperture  in  the  logs  still  remains  as  a  mute  reminder — 
Nesmith  and  Applegate.  Minto  and  Burnett,  and  scores 
of  others  had  often  gathered  for  the  discussion  of  the 
problems  of  an  incipient  civil  government. 

Like  many  another  pioneer  of  the  early  '40's.  the  old 
log  house  is  settling  to  the  earth ;  but  with  the  true 
loyalty  of  a  native  son,  Judge  John  B.  Waldo  several 
years  ago  placed  under  its  eaves  strong  fir  posts,  eight 
inches  in  diameter,   so  that   after  two   generations  of 


220  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

faithful  duty  the  venerable  fir  logs,  taken  from  the  forest 
sixty-seven  years  ago,  are  literally  going  on  crutches, 
supported  by  a  younger  generation  of  their  own  kind. 

Standing  on  the  dirt  floor,  leaning  wearily  against  one 
of  the  walls,  is  the  old  front  door,  which  has  not  seen 
active  duty  for  over  fifty-eight  years,  but  w'hose  latch- 
string  was  always  found  hanging  on  the  outside.  The 
nails  used  in  its  construction  were  hand-made,  and  their 
huge,  battered  heads  still  bear  the  marks  of  the  son  of 
Vulcan  who  forged  them.  He  fully  earned  his  wages, 
no  matter  what  his  charge. 

The  old  house,  protected  from  the  winter  storms  by 
a  separate  roof  and  sides,  is  now  used  for  an  implement 
shed.  When  I  was  there  last,  lying  on  the  ground  at 
the  feet,  so  to  speak,  of  the  latest  improved  twine-binder, 
w^as  an  old  wooden-axle  wagon-hub,  with  broken  spokes 
of  different  lengths  projecting  in  every  direction,  which 
had  rolled  its  weary  way.  two  thousand  miles,  from 
Missouri  to  Oregon,  in  1843.  There  it  rests,  with  its 
"lynch-pin"  attachment,  a  helpless,  discarded  outcast, 
jeered  at  by  a  gorgeous  array  of  steel  binders,  rotary 
pulverizers  and  gang-plows — an  eloquent  reminder  to 
the  younger  generation  of  the  world's  rapid  progress. 

In  the  summer  of  1845  a  log  schoolhouse  was  built 
near  the  Waldo  home  and  school  was  taught  in  it  during 
the  following  winter  by  a  man  named  Vernon,  who 
soon  afterward  went  to  California  and  was  never  heard 
of  in  Oregon  again.  This  was  probably  the  first  public 
school  ever  taught  in  Oregon  and  was  composed  chiefly 
of  the  children  of  Daniel  Waldo  and  William  Taylor. 

Even  in  those  early  days  the  customs  of  civilization 
were  becoming  well  established  in  the  young  commu- 
nity. A  man  whose  sons  are  to-day  well-known  citizens 
of  Marion  County  lodged  a  complaint  against  a 
neighbor,  charging  him  with  acquiring  possession  of  a 
mutton,  yet  alive,  without  the  knowledge  or  consent 
of  its  rightful  owner.  The  case  was  tried  before  Dan 
Waldo,  who  was.  by  common  consent,  the  acting  squire 
for  the  neighborhood,  his  jurisdiction  extending  from 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  221 

the  Pacific  Ocean  to  the  Rocky  Mountains — and  then 
some,  if  desired — and  the  oppposing  attorneys  were 
James  W.  Nesmith  and  Peter  H.  Burnett.  My  infor- 
mant was  a  boy  then,  but  he  remembers  seeing  the 
jury  retire  behind  the  house,  in  the  absence  of  a  room 
in  which  to  assemble,  and,  while  seated  on  some  logs 
by  the  woodpile,  each  whittled  a  formidable  heap  of 
shavings  while  the  merits  of  the  case  were  discussed 
according  to  "the  law  and  the  evidence." 

Dan  Waldo  was  a  member  of  the  last  Legislative  Com- 
mittee which  met  before  the  organization  of  the  pro- 
visional government.  It  held  its  sessions  "at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Hathaway,"  in  Oregon  City,  in  June,  and  again 
in  December.  1844.  Among  his  seven  colleagues  were 
numbered  Peter  H.  Burnett,  M.  M.  McCarver,  A.  L. 
Lovejoy  and  Robert  Newell — all  men  of  sterling  char- 
acter, in  whose  integrity  no  man  failed  to  place  the 
fullest  confidence,  and  fitted  by  nature  as  well  as  by 
experience  to  accomplish  great  things. 

Mr.  Waldo  at  an  early  day  engaged  in  many  branches 
of  business  which  had  for  their  object  not  only  his  own 
financial  gain,  but  the  development  of  the  country. 
Chief  among  them  was  the  Willamette  Woolen  Mills 
Company  which,  established  at  Salem  in  1857.  was  the 
first  business  of  its  kind  in  the  Northwest.  The  last 
few  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  Salem,  where  he 
died  about  1880,  after  a  painful  and  lingering  ill- 
ness. He  lives  in  the  memory  of  Oregonians  as  one  of 
the  best  and  most  enterprising  of  her  early  pioneers, 
a  splendid  type  of  the  frontiersman.  His  youngest  son, 
John  B.  Waldo,  served  one  term  of  six  years  as  a 
member  of  the  Oregon  Supreme  Court  and  two  years  as 
its  Chief  Justice.  Another  son,  William,  still  lives  in 
Salem,  a  bachelor,  is  eighty  years  of  age  and  has  served 
the  people  as  president  of  the  State  Senate  and  as  Judge 
of  Marion  County.  He  was  a  boy  of  twelve  years  when 
his  father  crossed  the  plains,  and  well  remembers  that 
when  the  family  started  with  their  teams  and  cattle  from 
the  Old  Mission  to  the  Hills  on  that  October  morning 


222  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

in  1843.  the  little  prairie  now  known  as  Willson  Avenue, 
extending  from  the  magnificent  Marion  County  court- 
house to  the  State  Capitol,  was  a  field  of  oats,  yet 
uncut,  while  its  owner,  L.  H.  Judson,  whose  house  stood 
where  Reed's  Opera  House  was  afterward  built,  was 
"tramping"  out  wheat  with  cattle  in  a  pen  made  for  that 
purpose. 

The  Waldo  wagon  was  the  first  that  ever  "rolled  a 
wheel"  anywhere  in  Oregon  east  of  Salem,  and  one  of 
the  first  that  ever  came  to  the  Willamette  valley.  The 
Waldo  homestead,  consisting  of  a  thousand  acres,  is 
now  the  property  of  the  daughter  and  only  child  of 
Judge  John  B.  Waldo,  whose  death  occurred  three  years 
ago.  With  the  passing  of  William,  the  family  name 
will  become  extinct  in  Oregon,  save  as  it  is  imperishably 
linked  with  the  beautiful  chain  of  hills  in  whose  bosom 
Daniel  Waldo  settled  when  his  nearest  neighbor  was 
eight  miles  distant  and  there  was  no  public  schoolhouse 
nearer  than  the  Missouri  River! 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Most  of  us  can,  I  presume,  recall  without  difficulty 
the  first  deep  impression  made  upon  the  memory. 
Nothing  is  clearer  to  my  recollection  to-day  than  that 
event  in  my  own  life,  though  I  remember  al)solutely 
nothing  of  what  occurred  the  day  before. 

Architecture  in  those  days  differed  somewhat  from 
the  style  in  vogue  at  present,  and  especially  was  ventila- 
tion based  on  a  system  generous  in  the  extreme.  Cer- 
tainly the  fathers  were  what  would  be  termed  "fresh  air 
fiends"  in  these  days,  without  intending,  however,  to 
pay  especial  attention  to  hygienic  laws.  The  first  thing 
my  father  did  on  his  Donation  Land  Claim  was  to  build 
a  house  ten  by  twelve  feet,  with  a  kitchen  extension  two 
sizes  smaller.  In  the  floor  of  the  kitchen,  the  possibili- 
ties of  ventilation  between  the  puncheon  boards  of  which 
it  was  made  were  so  ample  that  my  sister,  who  was  two 
years  younger  than  I  and  just  able  to  crawl,  acquired 
the  very  annoying  habit  of  dropping  our  spoon  through 
one  of  those  cracks  at  least  once  every  day.  We  had  a 
knife  and  fork  also,  but  they  were  regarded  as  dangerous 
weapons  and  were  kept  on  a  shelf  beyond  our  reach. 

To  make  diurnal  visits  under  that  floor  and  rescue 
that  spoon  was  exacted  from  me  at  the  tender  age  of 
three  years,  and  it  is  the  first  thing  that  I  can  remember. 
The  space  was  about  six  inches  above  the  ground,  as  I 
recall  it.  and  at  least  eight  feet  square,  but  it  was 
perfectly  dark  and  my  youthful  imagination  peopled  it 
with  all  the  hideous  monsters  known  to  zoology,  geology 
or  mythology. 

But  my  mother  was  inexorable,  my  sister,  even  at  that 
tender  age,  maintained  the  reputation  of  her  sex  for 
persistency,   and  the  exploration  of  that  dark  cavern 

223 


224  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

was  as  regularly  my  delegated  task  as  was  the  coming  of 
the  noonday  hour. 

Another  of  my  very  early  recollections  is  that  my 
father  had  a  band  of  sheep  which  he  occasionally  salted 
on  the  hillside,  and  that  at  his  call  they  would  appear  from 
every  direction,  coming  at  a  full  gallop  and  filling  the  air 
with  such  a  terrific  bleating  that  I  thought  it  meant  certain 
death  to  him  unless  he  should  run  for  cover,  which  to 
my  surprise  he  never  did.  His  escape  with  his  life 
always  seemed  to  me  little  short  of  miraculous. 

Another  event  ^\•hich  occurred  while  we  lived  on  the 
Hills  farm  wac  the  appearance  at  times  of  Waldo's 
cattle — perhaps  a  hundred  head  or  more — coming  in  a 
run  in  search  of  water,  which  was  to  be  found  in  a 
small  stream  near  by.  To  my  childish  imagination  there 
seemed  to  be  at  least  ten  thousand  of  them.  There 
were  few  fences  in  the  country  then  and  the  cattle  would 
sometimes  divide  into  two  herds  as  they  swept  by  the 
house,  bent,  as  I  thought,  upon  the  destruction  of  the 
earth  itself.  Their  occasional  appearance,  as  they 
rushed  down  the  hillside,  must  have  been  the  greatest 
dread  of  my  life,  since  to  escape  it  I  would  have  con- 
sented willingly  to  crawl  under  the  kitchen  floor  after 
the  family  spoon. 

How  mysterious  are  the  opening  years  of  a  child's 
life  anyway!  A  baby  knows  less  at  its  birth  than  any 
other  young  animal.  It  only  knows  enough  to  breathe. 
It  only  knows  what  it  sees  and  hears,  and  grows  in 
usefulness  through  the  advancing  years  by  reason  of 
its  natural  tendency  to  imitate.  A  child  born  of  Ameri- 
can parents  if  put  with  a  Chinese  family  at  birth,  and 
permitted  to  hear  no  language  save  Chinese,  would  begin 
talking  like  a  Chinese  baby  and  would  have  no  more 
idea  of  the  English  language  than  if  its  parents  had 
been  Esquimaux.  And  all  these  wonderful  un foldings 
from  the  Land  of  Nowhere  cause  many  more  hours  of 
serious  conjecture  in  the  minds  of  very  young  children 
than  we  are  apt  to  realize,  unless,  recurring  to  our  own 
experiences,    we   go   back    to    the    very   beginnings   of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  225 

memory  and  recall  the  things  that  first  made  an  indelible 
impression  upon  it, — for  memory  does  not  begin  with 
life;  it  is  an  after-growth  and,  indeed,  a  miracle. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  I  distinctly  remember  being 
very  unhappy  one  afternoon  when,  although  I  was  but 
four  years  old  at  the  time,  I  was  left  alone  in  our  little 
house.  Of  course  I  do  not  recall  how  it  happened,  but 
the  one  thing  I  have  never  forgotten  was  that  we  had 
a  clock — a  tall  one,  with  a  long  pendulum  which  ticked 
very  slowly.  Doubtless  my  mother  had  exacted  my 
promise  not  to  go  away  while  she  went  to  a  neighbor's 
house  for  an  hour  or  two ;  but  under  no  circumstances 
would  I  have  ventured  out  of  doors  anyway,  with 
Waldo's  cattle  likely  to  come  rushing  over  the  hills  at 
any  minute,  and  those  wild  animals  huddling,  in 
a  starving  condition,  under  the  kitchen  floor.  I  was 
very  miserable.  I  wondered  why  anybody  had  been 
born,  how  long  it  had  been  since  the  beginning  of  things, 
and  the  very  stillness  of  the  house  was  appalling  and 
oppressive.  There  was  no  sound  anywhere  of  anything 
except  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  apparently  far- 
away buzzing  of  some  house  flies,  circling  about  the 
ceiling  immediately  above  my  head.  The  stillness  was 
so  very  pronounced  that  each  alternate  tick  of  the  clock 
produced  a  faint  ringing  sound,  which  died  away  grad- 
ually as  its  successor  came  in  its  place. 

This,  combined  with  the  buzzing  of  the  flies  in  musical 
but  lonesome  cadence,  joined  to  my  apparent  desertion 
and  the  hopeless  solitude,  produced  within  me  a  feeling 
that  I  had  then  lived  about  long  enough,  though  I  do 
not  think  I  had  at  that  time  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing 
as  death. 

In  the  succeeding  years  I  have  met  with  my  share  of 
disappointments  and  discouragements — along  with  my 
share,  also,  of  happy  days  and  appreciated  successes— 
but  I  have  never  felt  an  hour  of  lonesomeness  which 
caused  me  such  real  distress  as  that  particular  summer 
afternoon  in  1855,  and  the  impression  it  made  on  my 
mind  was  so  very  deep  that  to  this  day  there  is  nothing 


226  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

which  is  more  Hkely  to  produce  within  me  the  feeHng 
of  absokite  loneHness — that,  perhaps,  friends  are  not  only 
not  very  plentiful,  but  still  less  dependable — than  to  sit 
in  a  room  by  myself  on  a  warm,  drowsy  day,  where  there 
is  no  sound  save  the  ticking  of  a  clock  and  the  humming 
of  the  flies  in  an  unvaried  monotone. 

In  the  fall  of  1855  my  father  sold  his  six  hundred  and 
forty  acres  of  land  and  moved  to  Silverton,  a  new  town 
just  springing  into  existence  about  seven  miles  away. 
I  am  not  sure  what  he  received  for  his  land,  but  I  think 
it  was  a  yoke  of  oxen,  a  pair  of  tongs  and  a  quarter  of 
beef.  I  know  it  was  regarded  as  a  good  trade  in  those 
days,  for  there  was  more  unoccupied  good  land  in  the 
country  than  anything  else.  (The  same  tract  of  land, 
now  divided  into  several  splendid  farms,  is  easily  worth 
one  hundred  dollars  an  acre. )  But  men  cannot  foresee 
the  result  of  these  moves  on  life's  checker-board,  and 
it  is  probably  best,  else  everybody  w^ould  soon  be  rich  and 
the  human  race  would  die  of  starvation  through  the  lack 
of  sufficient  labor  to  produce  enough  food  to  sustain 
life. 

To-day  Silverton  is  one  of  the  most  thriving  towns 
in  Oregon,  having  a  population  of  about  two  thousand. 
When  my  father  moved  there  in  1855,  however,  it  con- 
tained but  one  house,  and  that  was  on  wheels,  or  log 
rollers,  having  just  arrived  from  the  town  of  Mil  ford, 
two  miles  above,  on  Silver  Creek— and  when  that  house 
started  away,  it  being  a  small  mercantile  establishment 
owned  by  Ai  Coolidge.  Milford  was  entirely  depopulated 
and  has  been  ever  since. 

It  was  in  Silverton  that  I  attended  my  first  school. 
The  "master"  was  Paul  Crandall,  a  pioneer  of  the  earlier 
days,  at  one  time  well  known  over  the  State.  Another 
teacher  was  F.  O.  McCown,  afterward  a  prominent  attor- 
ney in  Oregon  City,  who  died  several  years  ago. 

In  Silverton  my  father  engaged  in  the  nursery  busi- 
ness and  for  several  years  supplied  the  farmers  of  the 
surrounding  country  with  most  of  the  apple,  pear  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  227 

plum  trees  which  formed  the  first  orchards  of  the  Wil- 
lamette valley.  In  connection  with  this  he  started  quite 
a  pretentious  poultry  industry  in  1859  and  hauled  the 
"finished  product"  to  Portland,  fifty  miles  away,  which 
was  the  only  market  of  any  consequence  in  the  country. 
To  deliver  the  poultry  he  constructed  a  doubled-decked 
coop  the  size  of  a  wagon-bed,  in  which  he  could  take 
several  dozen  chickens  at  one  trip.  In  the  fall  of  that 
year  he  made  the  journey  several  times,  each  requiring 
five  days,  and  as  I  had  importuned  him  unceasingly  to 
allow  me  to  go  with  him — for  to  see  Portland  in  all  the 
magnificence  with  which  his  accounts  had  invested  it 
was  the  highest  aspiration  of  my  life — toward  the  last 
of  October,  after  a  particularly  persistent  appeal,  he 
allowed  me  to  accompany  him.  The  cup  of  my  joy 
was  full  to  overflowing.  Only  a  few  things,  however, 
especially  impressed  themselves  upon  my  mind,  the  first 
being  our  arrival  at  Aurora,  then  universally  called 
"Dutchtown,"  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  where 
we  were  to  camp  for  the  night.  We  unhitched  the  team 
on  the  banks  of  Pudding  River,  and  while  my  father 
attended  to  its  wants.  I  dragged  a  lot  of  dry  sticks  from 
some  near-by  brush  and  we  soon  started  a  camp-fire. 
And  how  delighted  I  was!  What  a  pity  little  things 
cannot  give  as  much  pleasure  in  after  years  as  they 
do  in  childhood.  We  fried  ham  and  eggs  over  the  fire 
and  made  some  coffee,  and  the  delicious  odor  arising 
from  the  three  articles  of  food — always  good  at  any 
time,  in  any  country — I  have  never  forgotten.  It  was 
a  memorable  evening — for  it  was  thirty  miles  from 
home,  and  I  was  going  farther ! 

The  next  morning,  after  traveling  an  hour  or  so,  we 
came  to  the  Willamette  River,  which  we  crossed  at 
Boone's  Ferry,  a  well-known  pioneer  landmark,  quite 
as  old  as  the  first  settlements  and  yet  bearing  the  same 
name — and  in  use.  The  Willamette  River  I  had  heard 
of  since  my  first  attention  to  things  I  had  not  seen,  and 
here  it  was — and  here  /  was!  As  we  drove  into  the 
boat,    but   little    larger   than   the    wagon    and    team,    I 


228  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

wondered  if  it  was  possible  ever  to  reach  the  other  side 
— so  far  away  was  it — but  a  look  into  my  father's  face 
inspired  me  with  confidence  that  all  was  well,  so  I  began 
to  enjoy  the  novel  situation.  I  had  never  before  seen 
a  stream  larger  than  Silver  Creek,  where  we  crossed  ii 
on  the  covered  bridge  that  Homer  Davenport  has  made 
famous,  and  1  fell  into  a  deep  consideration  of  the 
possibility  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  being  any  larger  than 
the  Willamette,  while  I  wondered  how  the  boat  could 
cross  the  river  by  hanging  to  a  rope  which  stretched 
from  bank  to  bank. 

That  afternoon  we  came  up  over  the  divide,  just 
south  of  Portland,  and  I  had  my  first  glimpse  of  ihe 
great  city.  Singularly  enough,  I  do  not  recall  any  of 
the  circumstances  connected  wdth  the  stay  there,  but 
the  appearance  of  the  city  as  we  first  came  in  sight  of 
it  is  as  plain  to  me  now  as  it  was  at  the  time.  I 
distinctly  remember  that  at  frequent  intervals  there  were 
very  tail  fir  trees  growing  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  so 
close  to  the  water's  edge  that  many  of  them  were  lean- 
ing out  from  the  land,  and  I  wondered  why  they  did  not 
fall.  I  also  remember  that  on  the  rear  end  of  a  build- 
ing which  projected  over  the  water  was  the  sign,  "S. 
Arrigoni,"  in  very  large  letters,  and  that  father  said, 
when  I  called  his  attention  to  the  phenomenon,  that  there 
was  where  we  would  get  our  supper,  and  that  he  was 
the  man  who  would  buy  the  chickens.  I  also  remember 
passing  the  territorial  penitentiary,  just  south  of  the 
town,  and  I  was  duly  impressed  by  means  of  a  little 
fatherly  moralizing  that  it  was  not  a  good  place  to 
be — that  bad  boys,  as  a  rule,  made  bad  men,  and  that 
bad  men  were  sent  there  to  live  and  were  not  allowed 
to  have  much  to  eat,  nor  to  get  away.  Sometimes  they 
were  shot,  and  that  served  them  right.  I  listened  to 
my  father's  detailed  description  of  the  awful  place,  coin- 
cided fully  in  his  conclusions,  and  gave  him  a  verbal 
guarantee  on  the  spot  that  I  would  so  gauge  my  conduct 
that  there  would  be  nothing  doing  in  that  line  in  my 
case — or  words  to  that  effect. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  229 

The  return  home  was  without  particular  interest,  but 
for  about  a  month  afterward  I  was  the  hero  of  Silver- 
ton  among  my  little  chums,  who,  by  the  way,  appeared 
to  have  lost  much  of  their  prestige  in  my  estimation. 
Since  they  had  never  been  in  Portland,  I  wondered 
what  they  found  in  life  worth  striving  for  anyway! 
By  degrees,  however,  I  resumed  my  normal  place  in  the 
little  world  in  which  I  moved  and  I  was  once  more  on 
a  level  wnth  the  Brown  and  Wolfard  and  Dudley  and 
Barger  and  other  children  in  my  "set," 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

In  the  spring  of  1861  my  father  sold  his  place  in 
Silverton  to  Ai  Coolidge,  who  owned  it  and  made  it  his 
home  until  his  death,  less  than  one  year  ago;  it  is  still 
owned  by  his  daughter.  This  was  a  great  event  in  my 
life,  at  the  time,  one  full  of  joyful  anticipations  but 
tinged,  withal,  with  a  pang  of  sorrow — a  small  sorrow 
it  must  have  been,  but  I  was  a  small  boy,  and  it  was  as 
difficult  to  bear  as  if  it  had  been  a  larger  disappointment 
to  be  borne  by  a  full-grown  man. 

This  change  of  residence  cruelly  severed  the  ties  I 
had  formed  with  the  children  of  Silverton,  among  whom 
was  a  pretty  little  miss  of  eleven  summers,  with  rosy 
cheeks,  curly  brown  hair  and  killing  eyes.  This  little 
creature  had  completely  won  my  heart,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  all  I  was  about  to  be  ruthlessly  transplanted  to  what 
seemed  to  me  a  land  of  exile!  It  was  at  the  very  time 
of  the  firing  on  Fort  Sumter  and  the  different  States 
were  not  only  "dissevered,  discordant  and  belligerent," 
but  the  land  was  being  "drenched  in  fraternal  blood." 
I  can  remember  how  men  were  troubled  and  excited, 
but  I  could  not  understand  that  there  was  any  cause  for 
sorrow^  w^hen,  so  far  as  I  knew,  none  of  them  had  recently 
been  separated,  as  I  was  about  to  be,  from  the  only 
object  on  earth  that  could  give  any  interest  to  life. 

We  were  to  start  about  ten  o'clock,  and  as  it  was  not 
far  to  the  schoolhouse,  I  stole  away,  picked  one  of  the 
prettiest  wild  rosebuds  that  I  could  find,  and  intercepted 
the  little  beauty — who  shyly  confessed  herself  a  little 
disturbed  at  the  turn  of  affairs — and  with  immeasurable 
sorrow,  tempted  by  my  joy  in  meeting  her,  gave  her 
the  rosebud  and  tearfully  hurried  away.  I  had  just 
reached  the  tender  age  of  ten  years,  and  had  no  doubt  I 
was  undergoing  extreme  anguish ;  but  so  great  were  my 

230 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  231 

recuperative  powers  that  within  three  weeks  my  bereave- 
ment was  forgotten  and  I  was  again  basking  in  sunshine 
and  roses.  The  last  I  heard  of  my  youthful  charmer 
she  was  living  on  a  sheep  ranch  in  Idaho,  the  mother 
of  eleven  children,  and  was  doing  as  well,  perhaps  better, 
than  if  my  father  had  remained  in  Silverton. 

In  1854  W.  K.  Smith,  a  druggist  and  to-day  a  well- 
known  capitalist  of  Portland,  had  the  only  store  in  his 
line  of  business  in  Salem.  He  had  then  been  there  one 
year  and  was  making  so  much  money  that  an  opposition 
company  was  formed,  of  which  the  late  General  C.  A. 
Reed  was  the  leading  member.  They  erected  a  two- 
story  frame  building  on  the  east  side  of  Commercial 
Street  and  at  the  north  end  of  the  bridge  which  crosses 
South  Mill  Creek,  or  "Battle  Creek."  Within  one  year, 
however,  the  new  firm  sold  its  stock  to  W.  K.  Smith, 
building  and  all.  Smith's  store  had  been  located  one 
block  west  of  this  point,  where,  indeed,  all  the  first 
buildings  erected  in  that  part  of  Salem  were  located.  As 
the  town  grew  toward  Commercial  Street,  he  concluded 
to  move  his  storeroom  around  on  a  lot  he  owned  imme- 
diately opposite  where  the  Willamette  (now  the  Marion) 
Hotel  has  been  for  the  last  thirty-five  years.  By  the 
time  he  had  reached  the  west  side  of  Commercial  Street, 
however,  the  men  in  charge  had  broken  every  available 
rope  in  Marion  County.  Smith  made  a  trip  to  Portland 
after  a  chain,  but  not  finding  one  sufficiently  strong,  he 
bought  the  lot  on  which  he  had  met  defeat  and  rested 
from  his  labors  permanently.  He  was  selling  goods  en 
route,  however,  and  after  buying  out  the  opposition, 
transferred  the  stock  to  his  own  store. 

This  two-story  house  which  was  built  for  Reed  is 
standing  to-day,  and  is  still  occupied,  being  among  the 
oldest  in  Salem.  It  was  into  this  house — the  upper 
story — that  we  moved  upon  reaching  Salem,  the  first 
floor  being  occupied  by  B.  M.  DuRelle,  owner  of  the 
steam  sawmill  in  Salem,  which  was  entirely  washed 
away  in  the  following  December.  The  first  night  in 
Salem  I  staid  with  my  Grandfather  Eofif  in  the  old  Ben- 


232  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON' 

nett  House,  as  he  was  a  member  of  the  jury  and  was 
spending  the  week  there. 

Although  I  had  been  born  near  Salem  and  had  reached 
the  age  of  ten  years  I  had  never  been  there;  the  trip  to 
Portland  had  been  such  a  concession  to  my  ambition 
that  I  had  not  had  the  courage  to  mention  my  longings 
to  see  the  State  capital.  But  here  we  were,  and  to  remain 
permanently.  My  heart  was  satisfied,  and  the  bound- 
less opportunities  for  sightseeing  occupied  all  my  waking 
hours,  which  at  this  time  were  about  eighteen  out  of  the 
twenty-four.  The  next  Sunday  my  sister  and  I  were 
^ent  to  the  Methodist  Sunday-school.  My  mother  was  a 
member  of  the  Christian  Church,  but  the  Methodists  had 
the  largest  school  and  it  w^as  convenient.  I  had  never 
fcefore  been  to  Sunday-school,  since  Silverton  had  not 
yet  reached  the  stage  of  development  which  demanded 
such  an  institution. 

I  well  remember  that  David  Rutledge  was  the  Metho- 
dist pastor  at  that  time  and  Thomas  H.  Crawford,  yet 
iiving  and  until  recently  the  secretary  of  the  Board  of 
Regents  for  the  Oregon  Agricultural  College,  w-as  the 
superintendent.  The  latter  led  in  the  singing,  which  1 
thought  was  as  near  perfection  as  could  be  expected  this 
side  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  of  which  I  had  heard  some 
accounts  more  or  less  satisfactory  even  then.  There 
was  a  sort  of  drill  in  the  singing  of  the  principal  song, 
and  though  it  is  exactly  fifty  years  this  month  since  that 
practice,  so  impressed  was  I  with  the  splendor  of  the 
surroundings  and  the  novelty  of  the  delightful  experi- 
ence, that  I  have  never  forgotten  the  words  of  the  first 
verse,  which  were: 

Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun 
Does  his  successive  journeys  run ; 
His  kingdom  spread  from  shore  to  shore, 
Till  moons  shall  wax  and  wane  no  more. 

It  was  great.  We  went  home,  after  becoming  mem- 
bers of  the  children's  class,  with  a  lesson  of  ten  verses, 
which  we  were  to  commit  to  memory  for  recital  on  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  233 

next  Sunday.  Before  night  of  that  same  day  we  had 
them  all  down  ''pat,"  and  recited  them  at  home  at  least 
twenty-five  times  every  day  during  the  ensuing  week. 
The  first  of  these  verses  was:  "Search  the  Scriptures, 
for  in  them  ye  think  ye  have  eternal  life;  and  they  are 
they  which  testify  of  me."  The  lesson  was  somewhere 
in  St.  John,  I  remember,  but  have  forgotten  the  chapter. 
(It  would,  perhaps,  be  a  good  exercise  for  the  reader  to 
look  it  up.) 

That  summer,  as  already  observed,  I  attended  the 
Central  School  and  my  father  built  a  home  on  Com- 
mercial Street  nearly  opposite  where  the  Willamette 
Hotel  now  stands.  In  the  fall  he  bought  the  apples,  on 
the  trees,  in  the  orchard  belonging  to  George  H.  Jones, 
one  of  the  pioneer  settlers  in  Salem,  and,  by  the  way,  it 
was  one  of  the  first  orchards  planted  in  the  State.  Asso- 
ciated with  him  in  this  enterprise  was  Samuel  Headrick, 
soon  afterward  elected  sheriff  of  Marion  County,  and  a 
son  of  a  well-known  pioneer  family  on  Howell's  prairie. 
They  gathered  the  apples,  packed  them  and  shipped  them 
to  the  San  Francisco  market.  They  made  some  money 
out  of  the  undertaking,  but  my  clearest  impression  of  it 
all  was  that  perhaps  no  more  disagreeable  work  can  be 
devised  than  gathering  apples  on  such  wet,  foggy  morn- 
ings in  November  as  are  sometimes  known  in  the  Wil- 
amette  valley — especially  if  you  are  a  ten-year-old  boy, 
compelled  to  engage  in  it,  and  with  other  "stunts"  in 
view,  as  I  had,  offering  a  far  more  attractive  outlook. 

Some  time  in  the  early  spring  of  1862  my  father  went 
to  the  mines  in  British  Columbia,  drifting  from  there 
into  eastern  Oregon  and  Idaho,  and  my  mother,  with  my 
brother  and  sister,  went  to  California  to  live.  She  and 
my  father  never  saw  each  other  afterward,  though  they 
both  lived  to  be  seventy-five  years  of  age.  It  is  not  a 
subject  to  be  discussed  here,  save  as  it  is  necessary  to 
refer  to  it  in  explanation  of  the  conditions  by  which  I 
was  often  confronted.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  one 
was  no  more  to  blame  than  the  other,  and  that  there 
was  nothing  which  could  not  have  been  removed  by  the 


234  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

exercise  of  a  little  diplomacy — but  they  were  far  apart, 
and  no  serious  attempt  at  reconciliation  was  made.  It 
was  a  great  misfortune  for  them  both  and  it  fell  heavily 
on  me,  as  I  was  but  eleven  years  of  age  at  the  time  and, 
with  neither  home  nor  parents  within  a  thousand  miles, 
was  thrown  entirely  on  my  own  resources. 

I  lived  with  my  Grandfather  Eoff  on  his  farm,  seven 
miles  east  of  Salem,  from  the  spring  of  1862  until  Sep- 
tember of  the  following  year,  when  my  father  returned 
to  the  Willamette  valley  and  made  arrangements,  as  I 
have  already  said,  for  me  to  enter  the  Willamette  Uni- 
versity. I  had  then  not  seen  him  for  more  than  eighteen 
months,  nor  had  I  seen  my  mother  for  a  year.  Indeed, 
I  did  not  see  her  again  until  the  summer  of  1885.  twenty- 
three  years  later,  when  she  made  a  visit  to  my  home  in 
the  Waldo  Hills,  though  we  maintained  a  correspondence 
during  all  that  time. 

Like  a  great  majority  of  miners,  my  father  had  not 
succeeded  very  well  and  consequently  could  not  afford 
to  pay  for  my  board ;  as  a  result  I  was  to  do  "chores" 
and  render  assistance  in  various  ways  to  offset  my 
"keep."  By  dint  of  much  maneuvering  I  managed  to 
remain  in  school  until  the  spring  of  1865,  eighteen 
months,  when  I  was  compelled  to  abandon  further 
efforts  in  that  direction  and  to  go  to  work  for  a  living — 
at  fourteen  years  of  age. 

I  began  my  school  experience  in  September,  1863.  ^Y 
boarding  at  the  home  of  Sam  Headrick.  just  mentioned, 
a  very  close  friend  of  my  father.  It  was  a  very  agree- 
able place  to  stay,  but  he  made  a  change  in  his  house- 
keeping affairs  in  the  spring  of  1864,  having  been  elected 
sheriff  of  Marion  County,  and  I  was  thrown  upon  my 
own  resources.  By  the  assistance  of  Daniel  Jones, 
another  Silverton  friend.  I  found  a  place  in  a  restaurant 
conducted  on  Commercial  Street  by  a  man  named  Chase. 
Mr.  Jones,  who  had  a  tailor  shop,  allowed  me  to  sleep 
on  and  under  two  pairs  of  blankets  under  the  counter  of 
his  shop,  but  I  had  no  sooner  become  settled  in  my  new 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  235 

position — and  my  blankets — than  Chase  failed  in  busi- 
ness and  his  establishment  was  closed. 

Upon  this  sudden  change  in  affairs  I  thought  I  had 
reached  the  end  of  my  rope  in  my  effort  to  continue  in 
school,  and  was  seriously  considering  the  necessity  of 
returning  to  the  country  and  working  for  my  grand- 
father when  "Walt"  Smith,  a  merchant  who  had  a  few 
years  before  worked  for  my  uncle  Ralph  Geer  on  his 
farm  in  the  Hills,  offered  me  a  place  in  his  home  until  I 
could  find  another.  By  this  time  I  was  attending  school 
in  Professor  L.  J.  Powell's  department,  and  to  him  I 
told  my  troubles,  adding  that  I  feared  I  would  have  to 
abandon  altogether  my  struggle  for  an  education.  To 
this  he  seriously  objected,  saying  that  I  could  come  to 
his  home  and  work  for  my  board  until  I  could  secure  a 
permanent  place.  This  I  did,  remaining  until  the  middle 
of  the  winter  of  1864,  when  his  wife  became  ill  and  I 
was  compelled  to  move  again. 

Luckily,  at  this  point  Mr.  Jones,  to  whom  I  went  with 
all  my  disappointments,  said  he  felt  certain  he  could  find 
me  a  good  home  with  George  Beale,  who  kept  a  saloon 
on  the  corner  where  the  Willamette  Hotel  now  stands, 
as  he  had  heard  him  say  he  wished  he  could  get  a  boy 
to  do  the  chores  around  the  house,  being  away  much  of 
the  time. 

This  proved  an  ideal  place  to  live.  There  was  little 
to  do  and  there  were  no  children.  But,  alack  and  alas! 
I  had  been  there  but  a  couple  of  months  when  he  was 
arrested  on  a  charge  of  murder,  found  guilty,  and  paid 
the  penalty  on  the  gallows. 

Balked  again  in  my  pursuit  of  knowledge,  I  decided 
I  would  call  it  a  bad  job  all  around  and  go  to  work.  And 
why  not?  The  fates  seemed  against  me  at  every  turn. 
Every  time  I  found  a  place  to  stay,  the  man  of  the  house 
either  failed  in  business,  changed  his  vocation,  moved 
away  or  was  hanged;  so  I  hied  myself  to  the  country, 
rolled  up  my  sleeves  and  worked  a  full  year  for  my 
board  and  clothes  at  the  home  of  my  cousin  Cal  Geer, 


236  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

in  the  Waldo  Hills.  At  the  end  of  the  year  I  agreed  to 
work  four  months  for  another  cousin.  L.  B.  Geer,  for  a 
four-year-old  mare  valued  at  one  hundred  dollars. 

When  this  contract  was  fulfilled  in  the  fall  of  1866, 
my  father  had  concluded  to  get  married  again  and  to 
locate  in  the  Cove,  a  most  attractive  place  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Grand  Ronde  valley,  which  was  then  begin- 
ning to  be  settled.  Having  decided  to  enter  the  nursery 
business,  he  wrote  to  me  of  his  plans,  matrimonial  and 
otherwise,  and  requested  me  to  make  arrangements  to 
live  with  him.  He  wanted  me  to  secure  a  large  quantity 
of  apple  and  pear  seeds,  as  well  as  roots  for  grafting. 
After  having  employed  a  month  at  this  task,  just  before 
Christmas.  1866.  I  bade  farewell  to  boyhood  scenes  and 
friends  and.  with  an  enormous  trunk  full  of  fruit  seeds 
and  roots,  left  for  my  new  home  in  a  new  country  in 
eastern  Oregon. 

It  will  be  well  to  devote  a  page  or  two  to  that  trip 
from  Salem  to  Grand  Ronde  valley  in  1866  as  affording 
a  lesson  to  those  who  are  too  prone  to  conclude  that  "the 
old  times"  are  the  best  times,  and  that  the  condition  of 
mankind  is  now  less  conducive  to  comfort  than  formerly. 
Let  us  see  how  it  is  by  contrast. 

I  left  Salem  one  morning  before  daylight  on  a  steam- 
boat for  Portland,  and  it  required  all  day  and  until  after 
dark  to  reach  that  city.  The  only  other  way  to  make 
the  journey  was  by  stage,  which  required  fully  as  much 
time  and  cost  more.  The  next  morning  I  started  for 
The  Dalles  by  boat  and  did  not  reach  that  place  until 
dark.  The  third  day,  long  before  daylight,  I  boarded  a 
portage  railroad  that  ran  to  Celilo,  some  fifteen  miles 
up  the  river,  at  which  place  we  arrived  while  it  was  yet 
dark.  Here  we  boarded  a  waiting  steamboat  and  trav- 
eled all  day  to  reach  the  Umatilla  Landing  and  there  we 
remained  all  night.  The  fourth  day,  starting  long  before 
it  was  light,  we  reached  by  stage  what  was  callerl  the 
Twelve  Mile  House  before  breakfast.  It  was  bitterly 
cold  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  station  my  feet  were 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  237 

nearly  frozen.  My  good  Aunt  Mary  Geer  had  given 
me  several  extra  pairs  of  new  socks  which  she  herself 
had  knit,  insisting  that  when  I  began  my  stage  journey 
in  "that  dreadfully  cold  country"  I  should  put  on  two 
pairs  of  them.  This  I  did  that  morning  at  the  Landing, 
and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  pull  my  boots  on  over  them. 
Of  course,  the  result  of  this  was  that  the  cold  was 
doubled  in  its  effect  and  by  the  time  we  had  traveled 
half  the  distance  to  the  station  I  was  in  danger  of  having 
frozen  feet.  The  driver  declared  it  impossible  to  take  off 
my  boots  in  that  sort  of  a  storm,  so  I  endured  my  misery 
until  we  arrived  at  the  inn.  Here  it  was  not  long  until 
I  had  stripped  my  feet  to  one  pair  of  socks,  and  my  first 
lesson  in  dressing  for  cold  weather  was  learned. 

We  crossed  the  Umatilla  River  where  the  city  of  Pen- 
dleton now  stands,  but  there  was  nothing  there  then 
but  a  stage  station  and  a  toll-bridge.  At  sundown  we 
reached  Warm  Springs,  since  known  as  Bingham 
Springs  (I  believe  it  is  the  same  place).  The  next  morn- 
ing we  passed  over  the  Blue  Mountains,  through  Sum- 
merville,  and  soon  after  noon  reached  Hendershott's 
Point,  my  destination,  December  2^. 

As  will  be  seen,  this  trip  occupied  nearly  five  days  and 
parts  of  two  nights  and  was  attended  with  much  dis- 
comfort, besides  costing  fully  three  times  as  much  as  the 
fare  now  charged  in  a  luxurious  Pullman  coach.  One 
can  leave  Salem,  in  these  "degenerate"  days,  in  the 
afternoon  and  arrive  at  La  Grande  within  twelve  hours 
from  Portland ! 

"Do  the  world  move?"  It  do — and  in  the  right 
direction.  Though  at  times,  it  is  conceded,  the  progress 
is  somewhat  slow,  it  is  getting  there  all  the  time! 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

It  so  happened  that  I  Hved  in  Salem  (hiring  the  precise 
period  of  the  Civil  War.  and  I  was  old  enough  fully  to 
understand  its  meaning  and  to  appreciate  the  nature  of 
the  struggle.  Boys  of  my  age  were  as  enthusiastic  over 
the  contest  as  were  the  men,  and  as  anxious  for  the 
success  of  the  side  they  espoused.  Of  course  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  people  of  Oregon  was  overwhelmingly  for 
the  Union,  but  there  was  quite  a  large  and  outspoken 
percentage  which  hoped  for  the  success  of  the  South. 
Indeed,  public  expressions  of  sympathy  for  the  Southern 
army  resulted  in  many  personal  encounters  on  the  streets 
of  Salem,  and  it  was  seldom  that  the  voicing  of  such 
sentiments  was  not  challenged  on  the  spot.  There  was 
one  man  in  Salem,  in  particular,  who  had  several  fistic 
encounters  on  the  street — several  of  which  I  saw — be- 
cause of  his  shouting.  "Hurrah  for  JefiF  Davis!" 

Soon  after  the  commencement  of  hostilities  between 
the  two  sections  a  local  militia  company  w^as  organized 
in  Salem  known  as  the  "Marion  Rifles."  officered  by 
prominent  men  in  business  and  public  life.  It  was  splen- 
didly equipped  and  was  on  duty  whenever  there  was  any 
occasion  for  a  demonstration  justif3'ing  its  appearance. 
It  was  especially  unpopular  with  the  Southern  sympa- 
thizers and  always  drew  from  them  expressions  of  con- 
tempt. Most  of  the  boys  with  whom  T  associated  be- 
longed to  it,  but  they  were  older  than  I  and  therefore 
eligible  for  membership.  In  the  summer  of  1864  I  grew 
very  anxious  to  become  a  member  of  the  "Rifles."  Being 
only  thirteen  years  old  I  was  too  young  to  be  accepted, 
but  as  I  was  larger  than  many  of  the  members  who  were 
several  years  my  senior,  my  size  served  to  annul  the 
impediment  and  I  was  admitted. 

The  armory  was  in  the  second  story  of  the  Moores 

238 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  239 

building,  situated  on  the  northwest  corner  of  Commercial 
and  State  streets.  It  continued  to  be  used  until  the 
summer  of  1910,  when  it  was  demolished  to  make  room 
for  the  first  steel,  five-story  structure  to  adorn  the  capi- 
tal city. 

During  the  fall  of  1864  those  who  were  opposed  to 
the  war  and  were  especially  hostile  toward  President 
Lincoln — and  they  were  in  sufificient  numbers  to  create 
a  great  deal  of  noise — frequently  boasted  that  they  would 
interfere  with  the  orderly  process  of  the  election  in 
November.  Indeed,  it  was  greatly  feared  that  there 
would  be  a  riot,  as  those  who  were  openly  giving  sym- 
pathy to  the  Southerners  threatened  that  there  "would 
be  something  doing"  on  election  day.  It  was  thought 
by  a  great  many  people  that  there  would  be  rioting  even 
during  the  night  preceding  the  election.  This  seems 
strange  at  this  distant  day,  but  it  will  be  recalled  easily 
by  the  older  members  of  the  community  who  were  here 
then  that  at  one  time  in  the  early  stages  of  the  war  there 
was  a  well-grounded  fear  that  an  attempt  would  be 
made  to  effect  the  secession  of  the  Pacific  Coast  States. 
Of  course  this  rash  step  was  never  undertaken,  but  the 
sentiment  which  caused  the  apprehension  was  active 
until  the  very  last  days  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 

This  situation  created  grave  anxiety  in  Salem  dur- 
ing the  days  immediately  preceding  the  election  in 
1864,  ^rid  it  was  this  unrest  which  decided  the  officers 
of  the  Marion  Rifles  to  prepare  for  any  possible  emer- 
gency. On  the  night  before  the  election  the  company 
met  in  response  to  a  special  call  in  the  armory,  and  after 
discussing  the  situation  made  all  the  arrangements  in 
detail  for  meeting  and  suppressing  any  outbreak  on  the 
part  of  those  who  had  threatened  to  interfere  with  the 
election. 

In  the  process  of  the  discussion  it  was  agreed  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  meet  in  the  armory,  in  case  of 
trouble  in  the  night,  as  it  would  afTord  a  trap  in  which 
we  might  be  cornered  and  even  captured.  It  was  agreed, 
therefore,  that  in  case  we  had  to  assemble,  a  designated 


240  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

officer,  who  remained  up  all  night,  was  to  hurry  to  the 
Methodist  church  and  give  a  certain  number  of  taps 
with  its  bell,  which  would  be  the  signal  for  the  members 
of  the  company  to  gather  immediately  at  the  church  for 
orders. 

Every  member  took  to  his  home  that  night  his  musket 
and  a  belt  full  of  ammunition.  ])repared  for  the  worst. 
At  that  time  I  was  living  in  the  family  of  Prof.  L.  J. 
Powell,  whose  house  stood  on  the  northeast  corner  of 
State  and  Twelfth  streets  (the  house  still  stands  on  a 
lot  fifty  feet  to  the  north  and  is  owned  and  occupied  by 
Gideon  Steiner).  Here,  on  a  chair  by  my  bed,  I  laid 
my  belt  of  cartridges,  with  the  musket  leaning  against 
the  wall,  expecting  to  hear  the  familiar  sound  of  the  old 
church  bell  at  any  hour ;  but  no  call  came  and  the  election 
"passed  off  quietly,"  as  elections  are  wont  to  do.  This 
w'as  the  beginning  and  ending  of  my  military  service. 

There  were  a  great  many  boys  attending  the  Univer- 
sity who  were  too  young  to  join  the  Marion  Rifles  and 
who  were  handicapped  by  their  size  as  well  as  their 
age;  but  this  did  not  serve  to  lessen  their  ardor  or  to 
diminish  their  admiration  for  anything  that  smelled  of 
war.  These  boys  formed  a  company  of  their  own  and 
manufactured  their  guns  out  of  any  old  board  they  could 
find  that  was  an  inch  thick  and  long  enough  to  look  like 
a  musket.  From  a  board  like  this  a  boy  would  "carve 
out"  a  gun  that  had  all  the  outlines  of  a  rifle  or  shotgun, 
and  with  this  outfit  would  march  around  with  distended 
chest  and  erect  bearing,  only  regretting  that  his  gun 
didn't  carry  a  deadly  bullet  and  that  he  was  not  con- 
fronted by  some  man  on  mischief  bent.  Thus  equipped, 
about  fifty  University  boys  formed  a  military  company 
and,  with  a  full  list  of  officers,  employed  much  of  their 
leisure  time  in  maneuvering  on  the  University  campus. 
In  a  little  while  they  understood  the  manual  of  arms  in 
all  its  ordinary  requirements,  and  often  would  march 
up  and  down  the  principal  streets  of  Salem. 

I  remember,  however,  that  this  was  too  tame  for  some 
of  the  boys.     They  wanted  to  enjoy  the  smell  of  real 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  241 

blood.  It  was  too  much  make-believe  to  answer  their 
cravings  for  gore.  Among  the  students  of  that  age 
there  were  three,  and  three  only,  who  were  openly  for 
McClellan,  and  they  were  regarded  by  the  "army"  boys 
as  enemies  of  their  country  and  fit  subjects  for  severe 
punishment.  One  of  the  favorite  practices  of  the  com- 
pany was  a  double-quick  march,  terminating  in  "charge 
bayonets."  This  last,  usually  given  as  the  bell  rang  for 
the  school  session,  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  boys. 
As  the  three  "dissenters"  did  not  belong  to  the  company, 
it  was  thought  the  proper  thing  to  regard  them  as  the 
enemy,  and  it  was  a  common  proceeding  to  surround 
them  in  the  double-quick  march  toward  the  building  and 
shove  them  around  in  great  form  with  the  ends  of  the 
"muskets."  This  they  took  in  good  part — it  was  good 
diplomacy  to  do  so — and  all  usually  ended  well. 

But  Sam  Driver,  a  son  of  Rev.  I.  D.  Driver,  one  of 
the  ablest  preachers  the  Methodist  Church  has  ever 
known  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  was  not  satisfied  with  so 
tame  a  proceeding.  Ferociously  anxious  to  go  on  the 
war-path,  it  occurred  to  him  one  evening  after  he  went 
home  that  he  would  improve  on  his  gun.  Accordingly. 
he  took  a  ten-penny  nail,  filed  the  small  end  to  a  sharp 
point,  inserted  the  other  end  by  some  means  firmly  into 
the  "muzzle"  of  his  gun  and  took  it  to  school  next  morn- 
ing. The  company  had  its  usual  drill  before  school 
hours,  and  when  the  bell  rang  the  charge  was  made  on 
the  imaginary  enemy  in  double-quick.  Usually  at  this 
point  in  the  drill  the  three  opponents  of  good  govern- 
ment managed  to  disappear,  but  this  particular  morning 
Lafe  Williams,  who  had  several  times  invited  and  jus- 
tified the  infliction  of  the  severest  form  of  physical  pun- 
ishment by  declaring  his  preference  for  McClellan  for 
President,  was  caught  in  the  sweep  of  the  march.  Sam 
Driver  made  a  "bee"  line  for  him.  To  reach  him  before 
he  escaped  it  was  necessary  to  leave  his  place  in  the 
ranks;  but  this  he  did,  and  with  his  latest  "improved" 
musket  began  to  push  the  enemy  along  vigorously.  He 
was  literally  "wild-eyed,"  imagining  that  he  was  prod- 


242  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

ding  the  Southern  Confederacy,  incarnate  in  Lafe  Wil- 
liams. But  he  overdid  the  matter  decidedly.  His  bayo- 
net, and  his  use  of  it.  proved  his  undoing.  Lafe 
was  larger  than  Sam,  and  after  about  six  prods  of  the 
ten-penny  nail  he  turned  on  his  charging  adversary  with 
a  belligerent  expression,  reinforced  with  a  pair  of 
"dukes,"  that  instantly  changed  the  entire  trend  of 
events.  The  first  pass  Sam  was  sent  sprawling,  and  the 
pummeling  he  got  in  the  next  two  minutes  was  complete 
in  its  every  detail.  Nothing  was  lacking,  especially  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  erstwhile  soldier. 

The  fact  was,  the  boys,  to  whom  Sam  had  shown  his 
latest  model  of  firearm  when  he  first  arrived  at  school, 
did  not  approve  of  his  threat  to  use  it  on  one  of  the 
"secesh"  boys,  as  he  called  them,  and  when  Lafe  finally 
"went  for  him,  thar  and  then,"  the  outcome  was  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  wishes  of  the  majority.  Sam's 
face  showed  the  results  of  his  "Bull  Run"  charge  for  a 
week  and  he  didn't  drill  any  more  with  the  boys  for  a 
month — and  he  enjoyed  his  furlough  very  much,  indeed. 

Sam  Driver's  father  lived  in  Eugene,  and  in  order 
that  the  son  might  attend  the  great  IMethodist  school 
he  had  come  to  Salem  and  was  making  his  home  with 
the  family  of  Rev.  Gustavus  Hines.  He  and  I  became 
very  chummy  during  my  attendance  at  the  University, 
but  when  I  left  it  in  the  spring  of  '65  I  did  not  see  him 
again  for  twenty  years.  Occasionally  I  heard  of  him, 
and  in  about  1875  I  learned  that  he  was  an  ordained 
preacher  in  the  Methodist  Church.  Afterwards  I  heard 
that  he  was  the  presiding  elder  of  a  district  in  Idaho. 
It  all  sounded  like  a  fairy  dream  that  he  could,  with  his 
overcharged  electrical  battery,  attain  and  maintain  the 
necessary  poise  for  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 

One  wintry  morning  in  i8cS5.  I  think  it  was.  I  found 
myself  in  the  town  of  Union,  unable  to  start  for  Salem 
on  account  of  delayed  trains.  It  was  Sunday,  and  not 
until  the  church  bells  began  to  ring  did  I  recall  that  Sam 
Driver,  my  old  college  chum,  was  located  in  that  very 
town  as  the  local  Methodist  preacher.  I  had  not  intended 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  243 

to  go  to  church,  but  at  this  thought  I  at  once  changed 
my  plans  and  decided  to  hear  Sam  preach.  The  very 
idea  seemed  ludicrous.  Not  that  he  had  been  a  bad  boy, 
for  he  really  had  many  good  qualities,  but  his  tempera- 
ment seemed  the  very  opposite  of  that  which  one  looks 
for,  and  rightly,  in  a  man  who  follows  that  profession. 

And  I  was  embarrassed,  too,  at  the  thought  of  appear- 
ing before  him  while  in  the  pulpit,  for  I  imagined  that  if 
in  the  midst  of  his  discourse,  he  should  suddenly  recog- 
nize me,  after  a  separation  of  twenty  years,  it  might 
prove  disconcerting  to  him.  So  I  entered  the  church 
and  took  a  seat  where  the  huge  stove-drum  was  in  a 
direct  line  with  the  pulpit.  Sam  was  standing  near  the 
platform,  but  with  his  back  toward  the  congregation, 
engaged  in  conversation.  But  I  knew  his  back — the  dear 
old  boy! — broad-shouldered  and  erect.  He  soon  entered 
the  pulpit,  announced  the  song  and  led  in  the  singing. 
After  this  he  began  his  prayer,  and  the  way  he  impor- 
tuned the  Throne  of  Grace  for  mercy  toward  all  sinners 
fairly  jarred  the  walls  of  the  building. 

When  he  began  his  sermon  I  shrank  down  in  my 
seat  so  that  I  could  see  him  through  the  space  between 
the  stove  and  its  drum — so  much  afraid  was  I  that  a 
recognition  of  me  would  shatter  his  composure.  But 
this  did  not  happen  and  he  preached  a  really  good 
sermon.  All  the  while  my  thoughts  were  not  uninter- 
ruptedly centered  on  either  the  text  or  his  deductions 
from  it,  for  memory  was  busy  recalling  Lafe  Williams' 
charge  and  dozens  of  other  incidents  of  the  old  days 
when  Sam's  principal  characteristic  seemed  to  be  a  ten- 
dency to  torment  somebody  or  something. 

After  the  sermon,  as  he  came  down  the  aisle  shaking 
hands  right  and  left,  he  approached  me.  As  I  extended 
my  hand  he  instantly  saw  I  was  a  stranger,  and  almost 
as  quickly  recognized  me.  Then  with  both  hands  he 
grasped  one  of  mine  and  held  it  like  a  vise  for  several 
minutes,  asking  me  meanwhile  a  thousand  questions.  I 
went  home  with  him  for  luncheon  and  we  had  a  most 
splendid  visit.     I  went  away  on  the  evening  train  and 


244  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

never  saw  him  again.    After  experiencing  different  sorts 
of  vicissitudes  he  died  a  few  years  ago  in  Cahfornia. 

Among  the  pubHc  men  I  have  known  in  Oregon  none 
has  had  the  dynamic  force  and  ready  fighting  quahties, 
coupled  with  great  abihty,  that  characterized  Rev.  I.  D. 
Driver,  Sam's  father.  He  was  disputatious  to  a  won- 
derful degree  on  theological  questions  and  had  pro- 
foundly studied  them,  with  all  their  related  problems. 
He  was  elected  to  the  State  Senate  from  Lane  County 
in  1896  and  was  a  member  of  that  body  in  the  famous 
"Hold-up"  session  in  1897 — also  in  the  extra  session 
called  by  Governor  Lord  in  October,  1898,  and  in  the 
regular  session  in  the  following  January.  In  the  role  of 
legislator  Mr.  Driver  was  a  positive  force,  but  did  not 
take  front  rank  as  in  his  ministerial  work. 

Frequently,  however,  some  Senator  ran  afoul  of  him 
and  uniformly  received  as  good  as  he  sent,  frequently 
getting  some  "boot"  in  the  exchange.  One  day  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1899,  I  dropped  into  the  Senate  for  a  moment, 
just  in  time  to  hear  the  best  part  of  a  debate  between 
Driver  and  a  Multnomah  Senator,  when  the  latter, 
piqued  at  a  hot  remark  by  the  Senator  from  Lane,  re- 
proached him  for  losing  his  temper,  though  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel. 

Not  only  as  "quick  as  a  flash,"  but  a  trifle  quicker, 
Driver  shouted :  "I'd  have  you  know  that  I  began  get- 
ting mad  a  long  time  before  I  began  preaching, — it's  the 
oldest  privilege  I've  got !" 

Mr.  Driver  was  born  in  Ohio  in  1824  and  came  to 
Oregon  in  1853.  He  was  married  to  Miss  Rebecca 
Crumley  in  1848.  to  Miss  Mary  Hardenbrook  in  1852, 
to  Miss  Leanna  lies  in  1867,  to  Miss  Anna  Northnip  in 
1875  and  to  Miss  Mary  E.  Williams  in  1877.  His  first 
four  wives  died,  and  three  of  them  are  buried  in  Lee 
Mission  Cemetery,  near  Salem,  side  by  side,  with  one 
tombstone  doing  service  for  them  all.  The  story  it  nar- 
rates is  not  only  unique  but  mutely  pathetic.  Beside 
them  now  rests  tihe  form  of  the  husband,  who  died  some 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  245 

three  years  ago,  well  past  eighty,  but  vigorous  mentally 
and  ready  to  the  last  for  a  discussion  of  religious  ques- 
tions. Only  a  few  months  before  his  death,  in  the  course 
of  a  luncheon  which  he  and  I  took  together  in  Portland, 
he  related  many  interesting  incidents  of  his  early  min- 
istry in  Oregon. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

There  is  no  truer  statement  than  that  we  are  all  vic- 
tims of  circumstances — "Man  proposes  but  God  dis- 
poses." It  is  all  very  well  to  say  that  the  real  live  man 
makes  his  own  circumstances,  but  in  most  cases  he  does 
not.  The  very  circumstance  he  appears  to  make  was 
possible  for  him  on  account  of  some  favorable  condition 
with  which  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  do.  An  event 
which  in  itself  amounts  to  little  will  change  the  entire 
career  of  a  man  or  woman,  and  it  will  always  be  so. 
It  may  not  be  Fate — probably  is  not — but  random  hap- 
penings which  apparently  are  not  based  upon  any  plan 
necessarily  lead  to  others,  and  the  result  is  the  endless 
variety  of  changes  and  combinations  which  makes  up 
the  daily  life  of  mankind. 

For  instance,  the  creation  of  Union  County,  by  detach- 
ing it  from  Baker  in  1864,  was  the  cause  of  my  living  in 
that  part  of  Oregon  for  ten  years  of  my  life.  Under 
the  provision  of  the  act  authorizing  it,  the  Governor 
appointed  the  first  set  of  officers  and  Governor  Gibbs 
selected  my  father's  brother,  Isaiah,  as  its  first  sheriff. 
At  that  time  my  father  had  become  discouraged  in  his 
mining  enterprises  and  was  ready  to  accept  the  proffered 
position  of  deputy  sheriff.  He  at  once  went  to  La 
Grande,  the  county-seat,  and  took  a  position  in  the 
sheriff's  office.  The  sheriff  himself  lived  in  the  little 
town  of  Oro  Dell,  situated  where  the  Grand  Ronde 
River  rushes  out  of  the  Blue  Mountains  and  starts  on 
its  sluggish  journey  across  that  most  beautiful  valley  on 
the  Pacific  Coast,  using  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  of 
its  length  in  reaching  a  point  opposite,  only  twenty  miles 
away. 

At  that  time  Oro  Dell  was  a  town  of  some  pretensions, 
W.   J.   Snodgrass,   lately  deceased,   having  a  grist-mill 

246 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  247 

there  then,  as  well  as  a  mercantile  establishment  carry- 
ing a  large  stock  of  goods.  Here,  also,  was  where  the 
overland  stage  line  emerged  into  the  valley,  as  the  famous 
Meacham  toll  road,  over  which  all  the  immense  freight 
traffic  for  the  Idaho  mines  from  western  Oregon  was 
carried  from  Umatilla  Landing,  ran  this  way.  But  with 
the  development  of  the  country  Oro  Dell  was  absorbed 
by  La  Grande,  which  to-day  is  one  of  the  best  towns  in 
eastern  Oregon,  extending  to  and  including  the  buildings 
of  its  former  rival. 

Doing  the  housework  for  the  sheriff's  family  at  that 
time  was  a  young  woman  who  had  come  recently  from 
Missouri,  Miss  Eliza  Duncan,  whose  father  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  that  State  in  the  spring  of  1864  on 
account  of  his  espousal  of  the  side  of  the  Union  in  the 
unpleasantness  then  distracting  our  unhappy  country. 
Miss  Duncan  was  a  comely  wr^man,  thirty  years  of  age. 
My  father  was  a  widower  and  boarded  with  the  sheriff's 
family.  Naturally,  the  two  single  persons  became 
acquainted.  By  the  middle  of  the  summer  of  1866 
some  plans  had  been  perfected  between  them,  strange  to 
relate,  which  led  to  a  wedding  on  October  14.  This  led 
to  my  locating  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley,  as  already 
mentioned,  in  the  following  December — all  on  account 
of  the  notion  of  some  people  in  1864  that  Union  County 
should  be  created,  and  because  Governor  Gibbs  was  a 
personal  friend  of  Uncle  Isaiah.  Otherwise,  I  might 
have, — but  I  didn't! 

The  ten  years  spent  in  the  Cove,  Union  County,  were 
delightful  years.  I  was  at  the  right  age  to  enjoy  life — 
between  fifteen  and  twentv-five — was  in  the  best  of 
health  and,  like  all  other  persons  at  that  age,  had  most 
of  my  life,  at  least  in  prospect,  before  me.  It  was  a  new 
section,  however,  and  we  were  confronted  with  all  the 
difficulties  and  inconveniences  which  always  accompany 
the  first  years  of  a  country's  settlement.  In  1866  much 
of  the  flour  used  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  was  freighted 
from  Walla  Walla,  though  two  or  three  local  grist-mills 
had  already  been  erected  and  the  famous  Mt.  Fanny 


248  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Mills,  of  the  Cove,  built  by  S.  G.  French  and  Henry  & 
Hailey.  were  in  process  of  construction. 

Aluch  of  the  valley  was  yet  un fenced  and,  indeed, 
most  of  the  fertile  land  which  constitutes  that  garden- 
spot,  the  Cove,  was  out  in  the  commons.  Nothing  was 
produced  but  wheat  and  barley,  aside  from  the  stock- 
growing  industry,  which  was  the  chief  reliance  for  local 
revenue.  By  degrees  the  beauty  and  unusual  natural 
advantages  of  the  section  attracted  the  attention  of  out- 
siders; it  became  densely  populated  and  to-day  is  one 
of  the  most  prosperous  parts  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  Indeed, 
I  believe  that  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  is  one  of  the  best 
and  most  fertile  bodies  of  land  to  be  found  anywhere, 
since  all  its  acres  can  be  put  to  profitable  use  and  the 
climate  is  favorable  to  the  growth  of  a  marvelous  variety 
of  products  which  reach  a  perfect  state  of  maturity. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  Cove  in  1866  there  was  a  store 
and  hotel  at  Hendershott's  Point,  a  stage  station  where 
the  high  range  of  hills  which  begins  several  miles  to  the 
east  and  which  separates  the  Cove  from  the  valley  proper 
toward  Union,  through  a  gradual  lessening  of  altitude 
dwindles  to  a  point  and  is  lost  in  the  level  valley  itself. 
The  store  was  owned  by  the  firm  of  Frank  &  Bam- 
burger  and  was  doing  an  immense  business,  while  the 
hotel  was  conducted  by  James  Hendershott,  at  that  time 
one  of  the  best  known  men  in  the  State.  He  had  moved 
there  from  Salem  in  1862.  but  had  previously  lived  in 
Josephine  County,  of  w^hich  he  was  at  one  time  sheriff. 
He  was  elected  to  the  lower  House  of  the  State  Legis- 
lature from  Union  County  in  1866  and  to  the  State 
Senate  in  1868.  He  was  afterward  register  of  the  State 
Tand  Office  at  Union  and  was  for  several  years  a  very 
influential  lobbyist  at  the  different  sessions  of  the  Legis- 
lature. Fie  was  a  man  of  most  generous  impulses,  ex- 
tremely hospitable,  always  public-spirited  and  aided  much 
in  developing  the  agricultural  and  horticultural  resources 
of  the  Grand  Ronde  valley.  When  nineteen  years  of 
age  he  married  Miss  Harriet  Vincent,  in  Iowa.  ]\Trs. 
Hendershott  is  now  living  at  the  age  of  eighty  years, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  249 

with  her  only  child,  Mrs.  Minerva  Eaton,  wife  of  John 
Eaton,  one  of  the  State  tax  commissioners.  Mr.  Hen- 
dershott  died  in  1899  at  the  age  of  seventy  years. 

I  will  relate  one  incident  that  happened  in  the  Cove  in 
the  winter  of  1868  which  well  illustrates  the  nature  of 
"Jim"  Hendershott.  At  that  time  the  population  was  so 
sparse  that  no  one  church  could  afford  to  maintain  a 
separate  organization  and  building,  so  there  was  organ- 
ized what  was  called  the  "Union"  Sunday-school  in  the 
Cove,  and  to  it  people  of  all  beliefs  and  all  shades  of 
belief,  as  well  as  many  of  no  belief,  came  from  every 
part  of  the  valley.  J.  R.  Kellogg,  a  well-to-do  farmer 
living  but  two  miles  from  La  Grande,  twenty  miles  from 
the  Cove,  was  chosen  superintendent,  and  as  he  was  a 
singing-school  teacher  as  well  it  was  considered  a  very 
fortunate  thing  that  his  services  could  be  secured.  He 
had  served  in  the  Union  army  during  the  war  and  was 
a  splendid  fifer.  having  acted  in  that  capacity  in  his 
company  in  the  South.  In  almost  every  public  event,  of 
whatever  kind,  which  took  place  in  the  Grand  Ronde 
valley  for  thirty  years,  J.  R.  Kellogg  participated,  and 
with  an  accompanying  drum  could  be  heard  and  seen 
marching  along  the  principal  street,  in  his  element  while 
arousing  the  cheers  of  the  multitude. 

Mr.  Kellogg  never  missed  that  summer  in  his  attend- 
ance at  the  Cove  Sunday-school.  He  was  always  cheer- 
ful and  his  optimism  was  contagious.  The  last  time  I 
saw  him  was  in  the  summer  of  1905.  at  a  public  gathering 
in  Newport,  where  he  was  taking  a  vacation.  Being 
called  upon  for  a  song  by  those  who  knew  his  capa- 
bilities, he  responded  by  singing  that  old  ballad.  "For 
Uncle  Sam  Is  Rich  Enough  to  Give  Us  All  a  Farm." 
And  he  did  it  well  for  a  man  eighty  years  of  age.  The 
next  year  he  passed  to  that  land  of  which  he  sang  during 
a  long  lifetime. 

People  came  to  that  Sunday-school  from  all  directions 
and  it  was  the  most  popular  institution  the  valley  had 
ever  known.  No  discussion  of  denominational  subjects 
was  permitted — only  "Christ  and  Him  crucified."    W.  T, 


250  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Wright,  then  a  young,  unmarried  man  living  in  Union, 
where  he  still  resides,  was  a  regular  attendant.  He 
belonged  to  the  choir  which  led  the  congregation,  but 
was  suspected  of  having  an  attraction  there  (it  usually 
appeared  in  a  calico  dress  and  pretty  sunbonnet),  aside 
from  his  devotion  to  the  faith. 

As  a  rule,  families  brought  their  luncheon  in  huge 
baskets  and  when  the  Sunday-school  was  over  every- 
body repaired  to  some  convenient,  shady  spot  where  a 
meal  fit  for  the  gods  was  served,  those  not  provided  with 
their  own  luncheon  being  invited  to  partake  of  their 
neighbors'.  Nobody  went  hungry  and  no  meals  were 
paid  for.  At  three  o'clock  the  singing-school  was  opened 
in  "Dixie"  schoolhouse.  where  all  public  meetings  were 
held,  and  for  two  hours  all  the  old-time  hymns  and  glee 
songs  were  rendered  by  everybody  present  in  a  manner 
which  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  point  of — lung  power 
and  enthusiasm.  And  perhaps  those  crude  efforts  were 
more  uplifting  than  much  of  the  music  furnished  by  the 
church  choirs  of  to-day,  paid  for  at  so  much  per. 

There  was  a  Bible  class  in  the  Sunday-school  composed 
of  a  dozen  of  the  older  men  in  the  community — one  man 
being  a  Universalist.  another  an  avowed  agnostic,  sev- 
eral Methodists,  Baptists  and  United  Brethren.  Here 
all  phases  of  religion  were  discussed  freely  and  no  feel- 
ings hurt.  This  unusual  association,  which  made  for 
good  fellowship  and  neighborly  amity,  often  is  recalled 
by  those  now  surviving,  though  after  forty-five  years 
the  list  is  small. 

In  all  this  "]\ur'  Hendershott  was  in  his  element. 
Although  he  did  not  belong  to  any  Church,  he  was 
deei)ly  religious  when  under  the  influence  of  religious 
excitement,  and  when  the  "invitation  song"  Avas  being 
sung  at  a  camp-meeting — of  which  there  were  many 
during  those  years  in  the  Cove — his  voice  could  be  heard 
above  any  other,  and  he  really  seemed  to  feel  sincerely 
the  effect  of  his  surroundings — but  he  never  joined  the 
Church. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  fall  of  r868  the  matter 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  251 

of  providing  funds  for  the  Sunday-school  was  under 
consideration.  It  was  finally  decided  to  give  an  enter- 
tainment at  the  close  of  the  season — for  that  kind  of  a 
Sunday-school  did  not  and  could  not  thrive  in  bad 
weather.  It  was  estimated  that  the  sum  of  twenty  dollars 
was  wanted  and  voluntary  contributions  were  called  for, 
it  being  stated  that  if  all  the  men  present,  or  if  even 
most  of  them,  would  give  fifty  cents  each  the  necessary 
amount  could  easily  be  raised. 

This  was  at  a  time  when  partisan  feeling  between 
political  parties  was  well  defined,  for  Appomattox  then 
was  but  three  years  past.  Between  Hendershott,  a  lead- 
ing Democrat,  and  Mc.  Rees,  the  most  prominent  Re- 
publican of  the  place,  there  was  much  good-natured  riv- 
alry. Both  were  most  generous  in  the  matter  of  giving 
money  toward  any  public  enterprise.  When  contribu- 
tions were  called  for  Rees  was  the  first  on  his  feet, 
announcing  that  he  would  give  as  much  as  any  one  man 
present.  Hendershott  immediately  arose  and  said  he 
would  give  twenty  dollars, — as  much,  it  was  thought,  to 
embarrass  Rees  as  for  any  other  purpose,  and  thinking 
no  doubt  that  the  result  would  be  a  proposition  on  the 
part  of  the  latter  to  compromise.  But  Rees  at  once  pro- 
duced his  money  and  gave  it  to  the  chairman,  Hender- 
shott, always  game,  following  his  example. 

This,  of  course,  created  great  laughter.  It  was  finally 
proposed  that  they  cut  their  donations  in  half,  but  neither 
would  listen  to  it,  so  they  paid  all  the  expenses  of  the 
entertainment — and  enjoyed  the  experience  immensely. 

That  summer  Uncle  Dan  Elledge,  a  well-known  and 
popular  Christian  minister  of  the  old  school,  a  man  who 
thought  Alexander  Campbell  the  greatest  man  since 
Christ,  but  who  resented  calling  his  denomination  "Camp- 
bellites,"  carried  on  a  protracted  meeting  with  great  suc- 
cess. Uncle  Dan  was  a  man  of  great  energy  and  natural 
ability ;  everybody  liked  him  and  everybody  went  to  hear 
him  preach.  As  Dixie  schoolhouse  would  not  hold  half 
of  his  ordinary  congregation,  he  would  stand  on  the  out- 
side of  the  building,  in  the  shade  of  an  umbrella,  and 


252  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"dispense"  the  Gospel  without  money  and  without  price. 
At  this  meeting  Hendershott  was  always  present — so 
was  everybody  else — and  was  the  leader  in  the  singing. 
He  was  great  at  "starting"  a  song  in  church.  I  can  now 
hear  him.  by  the  aid  of  memory's  ear,  leading  one  of  his 
favorite  songs : 

This  world  is  beautiful  and  bright, 
Oh,  scarce  one  cloud  has  dimmed  my  sky  ; 
And  yet  no  gloomy  shades  of  night 
Are  gathering  'round  me,  though  I  die. 

Not  a  very  cheerful  song,  it  is  true,  but  it  w'as  thought 
especially  appropriate  in  those  days  for  the  awakening 
of  the  indifferent  sinner. 

As  the  interest  in  the  meeting  increased,  it  was  thought 
best  to  have  evening  services,  to  help  to  maintain  the 
fervor  aroused  during  the  afternoons.  Everybody  being 
in  favor  of  the  proposition,  the  question  of  providing 
lights  was  presented.  Tallow  candles  were  in  general 
use  then  and  several  offered  to  contribute  a  certain  num- 
ber each  night.  It  was  decided,  how'ever,  that  it  would 
require  a  great  many  to  light  the  room  sufficiently,  and 
another  effort  was  made  to  increase  the  donations.  At 
this  juncture  Hendershott,  who  had  hitherto  remained 
silent,  arose  and  said : 

"Well,  I  am  not  a  member  of  this  church,  but  I  have 
enjoyed  Uncle  Dan's  preaching  and  I  want  the  evening 
meetings.  To  have  a  successful  time  we  want  this  room 
well  lighted,  and  tallow  candles,  no  matter  how  many 
you  get,  will  not  answer  the  purpose.  The  more  you 
get  of  'em  the  less  you  can  see.  I  will  buy  a  box  of 
sperm  candles  and  present  them  to  the  congregation  as 
my  contribution.  Resides,  Uncle  Dan  Elledge  is  not  a 
tallow  candle  preacher!" 

After  life's  fitful  fever,  James  Hendershott  sleeps 
well  on  the  beautiful  hillside  in  the  Cove  cemetery,  over- 
looking that  splendid  panorama  of  rural  homes,  lovely 
gardens  and  fruitful  orchards,  the  literal  fulfillment  of 
the  prophecy  of  the  immigrants  of  1847 — a  veritable 
Land  of  Promise. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

The  Presidential  campaign  of  1868,  the  first  after  the 
close  of  the  Civil  War,  was  a  very  exciting  one  through- 
out the  country,  with  General  Grant  as  the  Republican 
candidate  and  ex-Governor  Horatio  Seymour,  of  New 
York,  his  opponent.  Public  interest  was  intense  in  the 
Cove  and  party  feeling  ran  very  high.  Democrats  and 
Republicans  alike  were  profoundly  distrustful  of  the 
honesty  of  those  differing  from  them  in  politics  and  cer- 
tainly had  little  faith  in  their  good  citizenship.  In  the 
Cove  the  Republicans  were  outnumbered  four  to  one  by 
the  Democrats,  who — it  was  a  popular  thing  to  say,  and 
it  had  some  truth  in  it — had  belonged  to  "Pap"  Price's 
army  in  Missouri  and  had  largely  overrun  the  Grand 
Ronde  valley. 

At  that  time  there  had  never  been  a  paper  printed  in 
Oregon  east  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  but  the  Democrats 
had  made  arrangements  to  start  one  in  La  Grande  about 
the  first  of  May  in  order  more  successfully  to  spread  the 
gospel  of  Democracy.  E.  S.  McComas,  the  county  clerk, 
— a  good  writer  and  sound  in  his  Democracy, — had  been 
engaged  to  do  the  editorial  writing  for  the  new  "organ." 

The  Republicans,  not  to  be  outdone,  by  a  little  hus- 
tling and  much  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  a  few,  succeeded 
in  obtaining  a  sum  of  money  sufficiently  large  to  pur- 
chase a  press  of  their  own,  upon  which  they  announced 
they  would  print  a  Republican  paper  in  "the  near  future." 
George  Coggan,  a  merchant  and  stockman,  and  M.  Baker, 
at  that  time  the  leading  lawyer  in  eastern  Oregon,  con- 
stituted the  firm  which  furnished  the  financial  backing 
for  the  paper. 

By  some  delay  in  the  matter  of  freight  delivery,  the 
Democrats  were  unable  to  issue  the  first  number  of  their 
paper,  the  Democratic  Se?ttinel,  until  its  Republican  rival, 

253 


254  FIFl'Y  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  Blue  Mountain  Times,  had  presented  itself  and  taken 
the  prize  as  the  first  newspaper  venture  in  eastern 
Oregon.  This  was  very  humiHating  to  the  Democrats, 
but  they  made  the  fur  fly  in  great  style  a  few  weeks 
afterward. 

There  had  been  a  debating  society  in  the  Cove  during 
the  previous  >vinter  in  whose  proceedings  I  had  ven- 
tured to  take  some  part,  and  political  questions  had  not 
only  not  been  tabooed,  but  were  preferred  as  subjects  for 
discussion.  Before  the  campaign  opened  we  had  disposed 
of  the  long-mooted  question  as  to  whether  fire  was  more 
destructive  than  water,  and  were,  therefore,  in  good 
trim  to  grapple  with  any  debatable  problem  that  appeared 
to  be  aching  for  a  definite  solution. 

To  add  to  the  troubles  of  the  Republicans,  the  Demo- 
crats had  a  habit  of  inviting  W.  W.  Baker,  of  La  Grande, 
to  come  over  occasionally  and  address  the  people'  on  "the 
political  issues  of  the  day,"  and  Baker  had  a  way  that 
was  particularly  exasperating  to  the  Republicans — who. 
by  the  way,  always  went  to  hear  him — in  that  he  was 
sarcastic,  somewhat  abusive  and  was  a  fluent  talker. 
And,  then,  he  was  a  Democrat.  But  the  establishment 
of  a  paper  gave  us  abundant  opportunity  for  setting 
forth  the  iniquities  of  Democracy  and  they  were  not 
neglected.  In  the  general  discussion  participated  in  by 
those  w^ho  were  active  in  both  parties,  and  that  included 
nearly  the  entire  body  politic,  it  appeared  to  me — I  was 
then  just  past  seventeen  years  of  age — that  the  Repub- 
licans w-ere  not  accomplishing  enough.  More  should  be 
said  and  it  should  be  said  in  a  better  and  more  effective 
way.  I  was  disappointed,  and  felt  that  I  ought  to  come 
to  the  rescue  of  my  beloved  party  and  all  that  it  stood 
for  as  the  bulwark  of  Liberty  in  this  country  and  the 
hope  of  free  institutions — or  w^ords  to  that  effect. 

I  was  in  this  apprehensive  state  of  mind  when,  provi- 
dentially for  the  party  and  the  country,  the  Blite  Moun- 
tain Times  appeared  and  the  opportunity  was  given  me 
to  remedy  the  shortcomings  of  my  fellow  Republicans 
and  to  show  up  the  Democratic  party  as  its  wickedness 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  255 

richly  deserved.  The  second  number  of  the  paper  had 
been  printed,  but  it  fell  far  short  of  that  spirit  of  destruc- 
tion of  the  opposition  which  should  have  characterized 
it.  There  were  so  many  things  left  unsaid  which  should 
have  been  said,  in  the  first  two  issues,  and  the  editorials 
were  so  shamefully  tame  and  tolerant  of  a  monstrous 
evil,  that  my  decision  was  soon  formed.  I  would  write 
a  communication  to  the  Times  that  would  open  the  eyes 
of  the  public  to  the  dangers  which  would  certainly  follow 
the  success  of  the  Democratic  party — and  it  was  a  crisis 
when  any  unnecessary  delay  might  prove  disastrous.  I 
would  show  up  the  enemy  in  print! 

The  second  issue  of  the  Times  had  been  printed  on 
Saturday,  April  25,  and  had  been  received  at  the  Cove. 
The  next  day  my  father  and  mother  went  on  a  visit,  to 
be  gone  the  entire  day.  While  they  were  getting  ready 
for  the  trip  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that,  since  I  was 
to  be  alone  for  several  hours,  I  would  employ  the  time 
in  writing  my  communication  in  defense  of  Republican- 
ism and  the  country.  The  opportunity  was  propitious 
and  the  motif  loftv,  while  there  could  be  no  doubt  as 
to  its  effect.     I  would  warm  it  to  'em! 

As  soon  as  I  was  left  alone,  therefore,  securing  the 
family  pen  and  pad  of  paper.  I  sat  down  and  began  the 
work.  It  proved  very  agreeable,  for  I  could  clearly  see 
the  enemy  falling  behind  the  breastworks  as  I  fired 
charge  after  charge  of  unanswerable  logic.  I  had  no 
pity,  since  there  was  no  excuse  for  the  existence  of  the 
Democratic  party  anyway.  Having  completed  my 
broadside,  I  read  it  over,  pronounced  it  good  and  put 
it  away,  for  not  for  the  world  would  I  have  had  my 
father  know  what  I  had  done.  I  didn't  know  what 
degree  of  excellence  was  required  in  a  newspaper  com- 
munication and,  therefore,  had  some  misgivings  as  to 
its  acceptance.  I  read  it  over  several  times  and  with 
each  succeeding  perusal  it  seemed  to  lose  some  of  its 
biting  sarcasm.  I  began  to  wonder  why  I  had  not  made 
it  more  scathing.  But  there  was  no  time  for  revision 
and  it  must  stand  on  its  merits — or  demerits. 


256  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Those  were  great  days  in  the  Cove.  As  there  was  no 
post-office,  all  the  mail  intended  for  its  people  was  sent 
to  Union  and  by  common  consent  "Jim"  Hendershott 
was  authorized  to  carry  it  both  ways.  Outgoing  letters 
were  left  at  the  home  of  S.  D.  Cowles,  and  while  Hen- 
dershott's  trips  to  Union  might  be,  and  usually  were, 
irregular  at  the  first  of  the  week,  he  never  failed  to 
bring  the  mail  down  on  Saturday  afternoon.  Early  on 
Monday  morning,  after  writing  my  communication,  I 
went  down  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Cowles  and  deposited 
it  in  the  receiving  box,  while  nobody  was  looking,  and 
hied  myself  away. 

The  ensuing  week  was  a  very  trying  one  for  me.  I 
was  in  constant  torture  lest  my  letter  should  not  be 
printed,  and  at  the  same  time  suffering  distressing  pangs 
lest  it  should.  By  Thursday  T  had  completely  lost  my 
appetite  and  was  heartily  wishing  I  had  never  entered 
the  newspaper  business.  T  could  not  understand  why 
I  had  not  let  well  enough  alone — why  1  hadn't  left  the 
defense  of  the  Republican  party  to  others,  to  those  who 
liked  a  fight.  My  father  noticed  my  gradual  wasting 
away  and  questioned  me  closely;  on  Saturday  he  sug- 
gested that  a  doctor  be  sent  for,  but  I  assured  him  that  it 
was  only  a  temporary  attack  and  would  most  certainly 
disappear  that  day. 

After  dinner  I  went,  as  usual,  for  the  mail.  It  was 
the  custom  on  Saturday  for  the  j^eople  within  a  radius 
of  several  miles  to  assemble  at  the  Dixie  schoolhouse 
and  wait  for  the  arrival  of  Hendershott.  S.  D.  Cowles, 
a  splendid  old  fellow  who  was  afterwards  postmaster 
at  the  Cove  for  ten  years,  always  took  the  mail  out  of 
the  sack  and  called  out  the  names,  while  the  eager  crowd 
stood  around  and  reached  for  the  letters  and  papers  as 
their  names  were  called.  On  that  particular  afternoon 
Hendershott  was  late  and  I  praised  the  Lord  for  it — 
the  delay  deferred  for  a  time  my  knowledge  of  the  fate 
of  my  effort  and  I  felt  better.  But  I  didn't  mix  with  the 
people,  an  unnatural  thing  on  my  part,  and  T  am  sure 
that  I  must  have  looked  guilty — of  something.     If  there 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  257 

had  been  any  officers  there  I'joking  for  suspects,  I  should 
have  been  arrested  without  any  inquiry.  A  countenance 
such  as  I  carried  that  day,  if  it  at  all  reflected  my  inward 
feelings,  would  send  a  man  to  jail,  notwithstanding  the 
most  vigorous  protestations  of  innocence. 

When  Hendershott  arrived,  I  took  my  place  in  the 
outer  circle  of  the  crowd,  and  when  Mr.  Cowles  picked 
up  the  package  containing  the  Times  I  leaned  against 
a  window-sill  and  prepared  myself  for  the  worst — still 
undecided  whether  I  wished  the  letter  printed  or  not. 
When  my  father's  name  was  called  I  was  unable  to 
respond  or  to  reach  forth  my  hand,  but  a  man  standing 
near,  recognizing  me,  placed  the  paper  in  my  hands  and 
I  at  once  hurried  out  of  the  house. 

Having  escaped,  I  did  not  know  which  way  to  go, 
seeing  that  the  goods  were  on  me,  as  it  were.  Finally, 
I  went  behind  the  schoolhouse  and  with  trembling  hands 
opened  the  paper — and  there  was  my  letter,  graphically 
portending  the  fall  of  the  Democratic  party! 

I  didn't  stop  to  read  it.  My  first  consideration  was 
to  get  away,  for  I  assumed  that  within  a  few  minutes 
every  man  there  would  have  read  that  scathing  arraign- 
ment of  the  only  menace  to  the  progress  of  the  Re- 
public and  would  at  once  suspect  me  as  being  its  wicked 
author.  The  first  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  place  myself 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  infuriated  mob. 

So  I  hurried  up  the  hill  toward  home,  but  after  I  had 
reached  a  place  of  probable  safety  I  could  no  longer 
repress  my  longing  to  see  how  my  production  looked 
and  to  know  what  it  sounded  like.  I  therefore  seated 
myself  in  a  corner  of  old  man  Martin's  fence  and  read 
the  letter  through.  This  relieved  me  somewhat,  and  I 
proceeded  on  my  way  until  I  fell  the  victim  of  an  over- 
weening desire  to  read  it  again,  when  I  sat  on  a  rock 
by  Sam  Col  well's  fence  and  gave  it  a  second  perusal ! 
This  satisfied  me  until  I  reached  home,  when  I  handed 
the  paper  over  to  my  father.  He  at  once  saw  the  com- 
munication from  the  Cove,  read  it,  pronounced  it  a 
good  thing,  and  wondered  "who  in  Sam  Patch  wrote  it." 


258  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

lie  had  me  read  it  aloud,  asking  my  opinion  as  to  who 
its  author  could  be.  We  suggested  several  well-known 
men  as  the  guilty  parties,  but  iinally  gave  it  up  as  a 
riddle  too  difficult   for  us   to  solve. 

This,  m}^  first  effort  in  the  field  of  newspaper  writing, 
which  occupied  the  leading  place  on  the  editorial  page 
of  the  Blue  Mountain  Tinics,  issued  May  2,  1869,  ^^'^^s  a 
full  column  and  was  signed  "Ram  Pant,"  printed  in 
capital  letters.  The  general  tenor  of  the  letter  may  be 
inferred  from  the  nom  de  plume  which  I  selected. 

Having  crossed  the  Rubicon  without  any  mishap,  and 
having  heard  my  production  spoken  of  approvingly  by 
my  father,  who  was  a  fairly  competent  critic,  it  was 
astonishing  how  rapidly  my  health  was  restored.  In 
two  hours  I  was  perfectly  well,  to  all  appearances,  and 
as  I  asked  for  two  helpings  of  every  dish  we  had  for 
supper  that  night,  I  was  told  by  the  head  of  the  family 
that  in  justice  to  the  cook  I  ought  to  have  given  some 
notice  of  such  an  abnormal  development  of  appetite. 

Having  broken  the  ice  successfully,  I  continued  to 
send  letters  to  the  Times  for  several  months  without 
being  suspected  of  their  authorship,  which,  by  the  way, 
occasioned  much  speculation  even  among  the  Repub- 
licans. Of  course,  I  told  my  father,  as  it  was  impossible 
to  do  the  work  without  his  knowledge.  Having  gained 
the  necessary  confidence  to  push  forward,  I  soared  into 
the  realms  of  poetry,  made  incursions  into  the  Bible, 
quoted  from  Shakespeare  and  did  all  sorts  of  foolish 
things,  enjoying  the  experience  immensely.  I  recall  that 
later  in  the  campaign  I  paid  a  great  tribute  to  the  Repub- 
lican party  as  the  savior  of  the  country  and  the  hope 
of  posterity,  closing  with  this  declaration :  "With  Gen- 
eral Grant  elected  President  and  the  Republican  party 
in  full  power,  the  country  will  be  stronger  than  the 
bonds  of  Orion  and  benigner  than  the  sweetest  influ- 
ences of  the  Pleiades."  Of  course  I  do  not  know  what 
that  means  any  more  than  I  did  then,  but  it  sounded 
good  and  I  supposed  it  would  make  the  Democrats 
mad — which  helped  some. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  259 

But  I  met  my  Waterloo  in  September.  In  some  way 
it  was  discovered  that  the  "Ram  Pant"  letters  were 
written  by  me — a  seventeen-year-old  boy  with  flaxen 
hair,  of  whom  such  a  thing  was  never  suspected.  At 
)nce  I  was  made  the  object  of  numerous  attacks  by 
iFferent  writers  in  the  Sentinel,  but  none  of  them  hurt 
until  Judge  E.  C.  Brainard,  of  Union,  fired  a  "poem" 
it  me.  It  consisted  of  a  dozen  verses  of  doggerel, 
written  in  a  vein  of  caustic  ridicule,  of  which  he  was 
a  master,  and  to  this  I  was  never  able  to  make  a  satis- 
factory reply.  For  several  years  I  kept  this  production 
of  his  stowed  away  in  a  dark  corner  of  an  old  trunk, 
from  which  it  was  brought  forth  at  long  intervals  for 
inspection ;  but  it  has  been  lost,  else  I  would  take  great 
pleasure  in  reproducing  it  here.  After  expressing  his 
fear  for  my  safety,  if  permitted  to  repeat  my  trips  into 
the  Pleiades  unattended,  he  besought  the  Lord  to 

Bring   Soaplocks   back   to   earth   again, 

and  counselled  a  cessation  of  hostilities  until 

Forest  Cove,  on  oats  and  grass, 
Recruits  her  panting,  Ram   Pant  ass. 

I  have  since  had  many  hard  jolts  in  the  political  field, 
and  time  and  again  have  felt  the  power  of  the  solar 
plexus  in  newspaper  controversies,  but  I  never  received 
a  blow  that  cut  deeper  and  hurt  longer  than  that  thrust 
of  Brainard's  at  the  time  when  I  had  concluded  I  had 
things  my  own  way  and  that  there  was  none  to  dispute. 
After  that  I  was  ashamed  for  anybody  to  see  me.  and 
my  father  said  I  had  not  put  in  so  many  days  on  the 
farm  in  any  one  month  for  a  year  as  during  that  Sep- 
tember! 

In  that  first  letter  I  dubbed  W.  W.  Baker  "Wonder- 
ful Wearisome,"  which  I  supposed  would  serve  to 
eliminate  him  permanently  from  the  list  of  public 
speakers,  but  it  did  not  seem  even  to  discourage  him. 
In  fact,  he  visited  the  Cove  soon  after  that  and  addressed 


26o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  people.  I  did  not  attend  his  meeting,  as  I  knew  he 
would  severely  arraign  the  writer  of  the  letter  and  I 
feared  my  countenance  would  betray  its  authorship, 
but  I  learned  afterward  that  he  committed  a  flagrant 
violation  of  common  politeness  by  making  no  reference 
to  it  whatever. 

In  after  years  I  often  regretted  that  I  had  not  saved 
that  first  attempt  at  newspai)er  writing,  but  did  not  think 
it  probable  that  a  file  of  the  Times  had  been  kept  even 
by  its  publishers.  Jasper  Stevens,  of  La  Grande,  was 
one  of  the  first  printers  on  the  Times,  and  when  I  visited 
the  old  town  in  the  summer  of  1903,  he  and  I  were  talking 
over  the  experiences  of  early  days,  when  I  expressed  my 
regret  that  I  had  not  saved  as  a  curio  that  first  literary 
production  of  mine,  'w'ay  back  in  1868.  He  remembered  it 
well,  and  suggested  that  it  might  be  found  in  the  attic  of 
his  home,  where  many  bundles  of  the  Times  were  in 
storage.  A  short  search  discovered  several  copies  of 
the  early  numbers  of  the  pioneer  paper  of  the  Blue 
Mountain  region,  and  among  them  was  that  one  which 
set  forth  the  apprehensions  entertained  for  the  safety 
of  the  country  by  a  "Ram  Pant"  writer  whose  home 
address   was  the  Cove. 

That  merciless  dissection  of  the  Democratic  party — 
considered  the  standing  menace  of  good  government 
and  composed  of  real  bad  men— is  now  in  the  custody 
of  George  H.  Himes.  secretary  of  the  Oregon  His- 
torical Society,  along  with  the  old  hand-looms,  primitive 
wagon-hubs,  rusty  Kentucky  rifles  and  other  Junk, 
valuable  only  as  curiosities  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

The  Union  County  pioneers  in  these  latter  years  have 
their  annual  meetings,  at  which  they  take  the  same 
pleasure  in  recounting  their  early  experiences  and  hard- 
ships as  do  those  of  western  Oregon  who  crossed  the 
Great  Plains  in  the  '40's.  And,  indeed,  they  should, 
for  their  privations,  in  a  sense,  were  similar  to  those 
of  their  predecessors  two  decades  before.  In  i860 
Union  County  was  as  near  being  in  a  "state  of  nature" 
as  Marion  County  was  twenty  years  before.  It  is  true 
that  it  was  possible  to  obtain  the  necessaries  of  life  in 
those  days,  if  one  had  the  means,  but  the  majority  of 
the  people  were  very  poor;  coming  generally  from  the 
Mississippi  Valley,  they  arrived  with  little  monev  and 
had  a  full  year  to  struggle  before  any  returns  could  be 
expected. 

I  remember  that  for  several  years  sugar  and  nails  were 
selling  for  sixteen  cents  a  pound — -six  pounds  for  a 
dollar  being  the  fixed  price.  The  result  w^as,  of  course, 
that  sugar  was  used  very  sparingly.  The  only  fruits 
growing  wild  were  gooseberries  and  elderberries.  The 
exorbitant  price  of  sugar  made  the  cooking  of  goose- 
berries almost  an  impossibility,  except  to  such  scions  of 
the  rich  as  had  drifted  into  the  country,  but  elderberries 
were  m  great  demand,  especially  during  harvest  time. 

Let  not  the  epicure  elevate  his  nose  at  the  mention  of 
an  elderberry  pie,  for  I  well  remember  that  at  those 
harvest  dinners,  where  the  men  had  appetites  like  a  cir- 
cular saw^  the  struggle  for  a  piece  of  pie  was  worth 
seeing.  The  demand  was  greater  than  it  was  always 
possible  to  supply  from  the  scattering  bushes  to  be  found, 
and  there  w^as  no  other  pie  to  be  had.  Besides,  a  pie 
made  from  elderberries,  liberally  seasoned  with  spice, 
cinnamon,  nutmeg,  sugar,  cream,  butter,  lemon,  orange 

261 


262  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

peel,  cloves  and  sweet  cider,  well  cooked  and  not  too 
many  berries  used,  makes  a  very  good  substitute  for  a 
better  one,  the  only  drawback  being  the  number  of  seeds 
(unless  one  uses  the  berries  sparingly)  and  the  circum- 
stance that  they  have  a  very  insipid  taste  anyway. 

In  the  mountains,  however,  huckleberries  grew  to 
perfection  in  many  sections  and  parties  were  frequently 
formed  for  the  purpose  of  making  raids  on  this  deli- 
cious fruit,  joining  the  pleasure  of  an  outing  with  the 
more  practical  result  of  securing  food  for  the  winter 
larder. 

For  two  years  after  my  marriage,  in  1870,  I  bought 
what  coal-oil  I  used  of  the  local  merchant  and  always 
carried  it  home  in  a  quart  bottle,  the  same  bottle  each 
time,  and  paid  thirty-seven  and  one-half  cents  for  it. 
This  was  at  the  rate  of  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  for 
a  five-gallon  can !  The  fact  was  that  coal-oil  was  so 
very  expensive  that  we  always  did  our  reading  by  the 
light  of  pine  knots,  which  were  saved  up  for  that  pur- 
pose. In  the  winter  of  1869-70  I  read  all  of  Josephus' 
works  and  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament  by  this  sort 
of  light,  and,  not  expecting  anything  better,  was  quite 
content. 

When  company  came  to  spend  the  evening,  a  requisi- 
tion was  made  on  the  coal-oil  bottle  and  the  additional 
illumination  of  the  house  seemed  like  a  bonfire.  How- 
ever, I  can  well  remember  that  when  we  lived  in  Silver- 
ton  we  made  all  our  candles  from  tallow,  "run"  in  a  set 
of  molds  which  turned  out  a  dozen  at  a  time.  I  recall, 
also,  the  first  sperm  candles  I  ever  saw.  My  father, 
on  his  return  from  one  of  those  wonderful  trips  to 
Salem — it  always  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  been  to  and 
returned  from  fairyland — brought  with  him  a  box  con- 
taining six  dozen  sperm  candles.  These  were  used  only 
when  we  had  company,  and  if  one  of  them  was  em- 
ployed to  light  the  room  during  the  progress  of  the 
evening  meal,  the  novelty  of  the  situation  was  sufificient 
to  take  away  the  appetite  of  my  sister  and  myself,  so 
intent    were   we  in  admiring  the  magnificent   spectacle. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  263 

Indeed,  if  we  had  used  sperm  candles  regularly,  we 
would  have  been  talked  about  by  the  whole  neighborhood 
as  scandalously  extravagant  and  intolerably  "stuck  up!" 

Conditions  were  so  primitive  in  Union  County  for 
several  years  after  I  went  there  that  very  few  men 
could  afford  to  own  a  good  wagon.  A  man  came  from 
Iowa  in  1872,  bringing  with  him  a  new  Studebaker 
wagon,  which  excited  the  envy  and  admiration  of  every 
one.  Practically  all  the  wood  used  in  the  Cove  for 
the  first  ten  years  after  its  settlement  was  hauled  from 
the  adjacent  mountains  by  the  use  of  the  two  hind  wheels 
of  a  wagon.  At  that  time  dead  pine  trees  were  to  be 
found  standing  in  the  woods  everywhere  and  they 
made  the  very  best  of  fuel.  A  man  would  take  his  two 
wheels,  with  a  false  tongue  attached,  go  into  the  moun- 
tains when  the  snow  was  a  foot  deep,  or  any  other 
sufficient  depth,  and  by  "skidding"  one  end  of  a  log 
two  feet  through  and  sixty  feet  long  on  to  the  axle, 
easily  pull  't  to  his  farm,  no  matter  how  far  away  it 
was,  since  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  is  shaped  like  a  basin 
and  every  farm  in  it  is  lower  than  the  nearest  timber 
line.  In  those  days  a  man  could  easily  secure  enough 
wood  of  the  best  quality,  by  making  a  few  trips  to  the 
mountains,  a  few  miles  distant,  to  answer  all  purposes 
for  a  year. 

There  were  many  farmers  who  did  all  their  "teaming" 
on  the  two- wheeled  affair  I  have  described.  I  myself 
had  been  married  several  years  and  was  the  proud  father 
of  two  children  before  I  invested  in  a  wagon  of  any 
kind.  I  had  an  opportunity  to  trade  a  horse  for  a  wagon 
with  four  wheels  (!).  It  had  been  driven  across  the 
plains  the  year  before  from  Missouri,  and  had  seen  hard 
service  there  since  the  days  of  Tom  Benton.  The 
wheels  were  "dished,"  each  after  a  plan  of  its  own,  and 
the  tracks  they  left  in  the  road  so  little  resembled 
parallel  lines  that  an  attempt  to  follow  them  for  a  mile 
would  produce  an  incurable  case  of  cross-eyes.  Never- 
theless, the  wheels  would  revolve  and  couldn't  get  off 
the  axles,  so  the  relic  proved  a  mighty  good  servant  and 


264  FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON 

I  was  extremely  proud  of  it,  although  I  remember  that 
when  I  took  my  family  to  church  the  next  Sunday  after 
the  memorable  purchase  I  was  ashamed  to  face  the 
crowd,  which  always  remains  outdoors  at  a  country 
church  until  the  singing  commences,  in  order  that  noth- 
ing may  escape  its  observation.  I  knew  my  step 
upwards  in  the  line  of  material  progress  would  cause 
general  comment,  and  from  that  I  modestly  shrank.  I 
had  made  a  "buckboard"  out  of  two  planks,  each  a  foot 
wide,  and  upon  these  ni}^  wife  and  I  sat  with  our  feet 
dangling  in  the  air,  with  our  backs  to  each  other — she 
holding  the  two  babies  and  I  driving  the  team.  It  was 
a  distinct  triumph  over  the  distressing  poverty  which  had 
until  then  hampered  me,  and  after  I  had  once  faced 
my  neighbors,  I  found  it  easier  to  appear  in  company 
with  a  vehicle  having  four  wheels  in  evidence. 

The  first  summer  I  was  in  the  Cove.  1867.  my  father 
"hired  me  out"  to  a  Mr.  McLaughlin,  who  owned  a 
sawmill  on  Mill  Creek,  two  miles  away.  We  had  moved 
on  a  piece  of  land  consisting  of  forty  acres,  perfectly 
new.  and  had  obtained  the  lumber  for  a  very  cheap 
house  from  Mr.  McLaughlin,  agreeing  to  pay  for  the 
greater  part  of  it  as  we  could.  It  was  partly  to  dis- 
charge this  obligation  that  I  became  his  helper  for  a 
couple  of  months.  It  was  the  only  sawmill  within  a 
distance  of  ten  miles  and  the  only  one  of  its  kind  on 
the  Pacific  Coast — I  should  hope.  It  was  driven  by  an 
"overshot"  wheel  twenty-four  feet  in  diameter  and 
thirty  inches  in  width,  which  required  three  minutes  to 
make  one  revolution,  and  the  machinery  was  so  geared 
up  that  every  time  the  wheel  revolved  once  the  sash- 
saw  would  be  raised  and  lowered  at  least  ten  times. 
The  cog  gearing  was  made  of  fir  blocks  and  would 
wear  out  after  one  week's  service,  necessitating  the  re- 
placing of  one  every  hour  or  two,  while  the  only  belt 
was  the  one  reaching  to  the  drum  to  which  the  sash  was 
attached.  This  belt,  made  of  cow  skins,  with  the  hair 
still  on  one  side,  would  stretch  to  such  an  extent  that 
when  we  were  not  making  a  new  block  for  a  cog  we 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  265 

were  taking  up  the  slack.  We  made  a  new  one  one  day 
which  measured  forty  feet.  The  first  afternoon  we 
used  it  we  cut  out  a  surpkis  foot  four  times,  and  by  the 
time  it  was  worn  out — it  lasted  a  week — we  had  fifty 
feet  of  surplus  hide  and  still  forty  feet  of  belt.  There 
was  no  waste  material  about  the  mill  anywhere ! 

My  special  task  in  this  work  was  to  "offbear"  the 
mill's  output,  to  do  which,  however,  was  not  difficult. 
The  logs  were  delivered  on  a  hillside  just  above  the 
mill  by  a  team  of  oxen,  and  we  could  easily  saw  one 
every  half-day.  When  we  wanted  a  new  log,  we  cleared 
the  mill  of  all  obstructions  and  removed  the  "chunk" 
which  retained  the  "boom"  on  the  hillside.  This  done, 
the  log  would  surrender  to  the  law  of  gravitation  and 
with  great  velocity  roll  into  the  mill,  usually  taking  its 
place  on  the  carriage  without  assistance.  In  fact  the 
speed  made  by  the  logs  in  this  operation  was  the  only 
rapid  motion  ever  seen  about  the  mill,  and  was  an  event 
to  which  we  looked  forward  twice  a  day  with  great 
interest. 

But  the  one  feature  about  that  mill  which  I  enjoyed 
to  the  full  was  the  progress  of  the  carriage,  as  it  pushed 
the  log  into  that  saw.  It  was  a  constant  struggle  as 
to  which  would  surrender.  Sometimes  the  saw  would 
give  up,  and  as  the  carriage  endeavored  to  proceed 
against  the  dead  saw,  the  mill  would  shake  and  tremble 
for  a  moment  and  all  motion  would  cease,  while  the 
water  would  pour  over  the  stationary  wheel  until  the 
extra  force  would  cause  the  belt  to  slip,  when  the  wheel 
would  turn  half  over,  empty  out  its  buckets  and  again 
come  to  a  standstill.  Sometimes  a  cog  in  the  carriage 
gearing  would  break  while  the  saw  was  savagely  eating 
its  way  through  a  pine  knot  and.  having  no  resistance, 
the  remaining  machinery  would  virtually  run  away  with 
itself  until  the  excited  "foreman"  succeeded  in  shutting 
off  the  water.  Oh,  there  were  times  when  things  were 
exciting  in  that  old  mill! 

But  when  everything  was  running  smoothly  it  was 
great  fun.     Having  "set"  the  log  and  started  the  works 


266  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

going,  there  was  a  good  long  rest  in  store  until  the  saw 
reached  the  further  end.  There  was  nothing  unseemly 
about  the  gait  of  the  carriage.  It  was  deliberate  a 
part  of  the  time.  With  the  screws  turned,  the  "dogs" 
firmly  driven  in  and  the  water  turned  on,  as  soon  as  the 
big  wheel  became  filled,  the  picnic  began.  Mr.  Mc- 
Laughlin was  a  devoted  reader  of  the  IVeckly  Ore- 
gonian,  and  after  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  the  belt 
was  not  going  to  slip  on  that  trip,  he  would  settle  him- 
self on  the  log  and  begin  reading  one  of  Mr.  Scott's 
editorials,  for  which  he  had  great  admiration.  Sitting 
on  a  gunny  sack  filled  with  straw,  which  he  used  as  a 
cushion,  his  happiest  moments  I  am  sure  were  those 
which  found  him  deeply  buried  in  the  columns  of  the 
Oregonian,  the  music  of  the  saw,  mingling  with  the 
splash  of  the  pouring  water,  indicating  to  his  sub- 
conscious mind  that  all  was  well,  that  the  gait  he  was 
traveling  was  not  transcending  the  speed  limit,  and  that 
sometime  before  dinner  there  would  be  another  con- 
tribution to  the  world's  lumber  supply. 

Of  course,  in  a  mill  of  this  character,  it  was  utterly 
impossible  to  saw  lumber  accurately.  Nearly  all  planks 
which  were  intended  to  be  an  inch  thick  were  two  inches 
at  one  end  and  a  half  inch  at  the  other — often  a  mere 
feather  in  the  middle.  For  this  reason  the  house  we  built 
was  a  foot  wider  at  one  end  than  at  the  other  and  was 
narrower  in  the  middle  than  at  either,  and  for  the  same 
reason  we  had  great  difficulty  in  making  a  roof  that 
would  force  the  water  to  run  from  its  comb  to  the 
eaves. 

One  day  a  cottonwood  log  was  brought  in  from  the 
woods  and  Mr.  McLaughlin  concluded  that,  as  it  was 
soft  material,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  saw  it  up  into 
thin  stuff,  a  half-inch  thick,  to  be  used  probably  for 
making  boxes  of  some  sort.  This  was  done,  or  rather, 
attempted.  On  account  of  the  uncertain  "cut"  of  the 
saw,  it  usually  used  up  an  inch  of  material  as  it  went 
hammering  its  way  through  a  log,  and  to  get  a  half- 
inch  board  from  this  process  was  not  only  a  fearful 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  267 

waste  of  raw  material,  but  the  precise  result  to  be 
obtained  was  a  matter  for  the  wildest  conjecture.  How- 
ever, we  sawed  up  that  cottonwood  log,  three  feet  in 
diameter,  got  seven  thin  boards — and  a  wagon-load  of 
sawdust.  I  stacked  them  out  in  the  sun  in  a  loose  pile 
to  season,  and  within  three  days  they  had  warped 
themselves  out  of  the  lumber  yard  and  were  found  in 
a  neighbor's  corral,  a  mile  down  the  creek! 

In  1870  Mr.  McLaughlin  sold  his  mill  and  moved  to 
the  Willamette  valley,  settling  on  the  Abiqua,  near 
Silverton,  where  he  died  soon  afterward.  Two  years 
ago,  when  on  a  visit  to  the  Cove,  I  sauntered  across  to 
the  old  mill  site,  but  there's  no  sign  anywhere  that  there 
was  ever  a  mill  there — that  the  hum  and  buzz  of  a  great 
manufacturing  establishment  ever  disturbed  the  local 
quiet  by  its  sporadic  efforts  to  supply  the  local  market 
with  local  produce.  All  was  changed  and  there  was 
in  the  place  of  the  old  mill  a  pretty  garden  in  front  of 
a  cozy  cottage,  with  two  children  playing  where  the  logs 
used  to  rumble  down  the  hillside. 

And  while  I  sat  on  an  old  pine  stump  which  had  been 
bereft  of  its  top,  doubtless  in  answer  to  the  demands  of 
McLaughlin's  mill,  and  indulged  in  a  half-hour's  reverie 
of  my  own,  I  remembered  that  I  was  some  forty  years 
older  than  I  had  been  "once  upon  a  time." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Perhaps  in  no  county  in  Oregon  has  there  been  more 
bitterness  injected  into  pohtical  contests  or  more  lasting 
enmities  caused  by  their  outcome  than  in  Union.  And 
the  origin  of  most  of  them  lay  in  the  county-seat  con- 
test, which  began  in  1872.  In  the  session  of  the  Legis- 
lature two  years  before,  Hon.  James  Hendershott.  then 
State  Senator,  secured  the  passage  of  a  law  providing 
for  a  vote  on  the  re-location  of  the  county-seat.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  a  contest  longer  drawn  out  and  provok- 
ing more  animosity  than  any  other  in  the  history  of 
Oregon. 

Upon  the  creation  of  Union  County  in  1864  by  setting 
off  the  northern  part  of  Baker,  the  county  seat  was 
located  at  La  Grande,  which  is  on  the  extreme  western 
edge  of  the  Grand  Ronde  valley,  and  therefore  far  from 
the  center  of  population.  But  it  was  the  largest  town 
in  the  valley,  was  on  the  line  of  the  stage  coaches  from 
Umatilla  Landing  to  the  Idaho  mines,  and  was  for  that 
reason  selected.  But  within  a  few  years  the  town  of 
Union,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley,  which  was 
also  on  the  stage  line  and  centrally  located  in  a  magnifi- 
cent agricultural  section,  becoming  ambitious,  began 
clamoring  for  a  vote  on  the  re-location  of  the  county- 
seat.  The  unrest  and  aspirations  of  Union  became  con- 
tagious and  the  outcome  of  the  agitation  was  the  enact- 
ment of  the  enabling  law  referred  to,  which  provided 
that  at  the  Presidential  election  in  November  of  that 
year  a  vote  should  be  taken  on  the  proposition,  and  that 
five  towns.  La  Grande.  LTnion.  Cove,  Island  City  and 
Summerville,  should  be  candidates  for  the  coming 
honor.  If  no  one  of  these  secured  a  majority  of  all 
the  votes  cast,  a  subsequent  election  should  be  held  at 
which  the  two  highest  contestants  should  have  a  final 
tryout. 

268 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  269 

The  outcome  of  the  election  gave  La  Grande  the 
highest  vote,  but  it  was  less  than  a  majority.  An  in- 
teresting question  here  arose,  however,  as  to  which 
aspirant  should  be  the  second  contestant.  In  the  earlier 
days  Cove  was  officially  designated  "Forest  Cove,"  but 
its  name  had  been  changed  by  the  Post-Office  Depart- 
ment to  "Cove"  in  order  to  prevent  the  frequent  mis- 
carriage of  letters  in  the  mails  resulting  from  the  sim- 
ilarity of  the  names  "Forest  Cove"  and  "Forest  Grove." 

But  the  change  had  not  become  familiar  to  some  of 
the  early  settlers  when  the  county-seat  vote  was  taken, 
and  in  the  returns  there  were  six  votes  for  "Forest 
Cove."  It  happened  that  the  vote  between  the  Cove  and 
Union  was  so  close  that  the  counting  of  these  six  votes 
for  Cove  would  put  that  town  in  the  second  place;  but 
if  they  were  counted  separately,  it  would  give  Union  the 
privilege  of  contesting  wath  La  Grande.  Naturally  it 
gave  rise  to  much  feeling,  for  it  was  soon  discovered  that 
all  the  Wilkinson  family  in  High  Valley,  old  settlers  and 
numbering  six  voters,  had  inadvertently  voted  for 
"Forest"  Cove.  In  the  wrangle  which  at  once  arose 
between  Union  and  Cove,  the  former,  of  course,  insisted 
upon  its  rights  according  to  a  strict  construction  of  the 
returns,  but  Cove  proposed  to  contend  for  those  six 
votes,  which  were  admittedly  intended  for  itselT  though 
technically  cast  for  another  locality. 

A  meeting  was  held  by  the  citizens  of  Cove  to  con- 
sider what  was  best  to  do  and  I  was  chosen  to  take 
up  the  legal  phase  of  the  matter  with  Hon.  James  H. 
Lasater,  of  Walla  Walla,  all  the  lawyers  of  Union 
County  at  that  time  residing  in  La  Grande.  I  had 
attended  school  under  Mr.  Lasater  in  Siherton  when 
but  nine  years  old,  and  had  known  him  later  quite  in- 
timately. He  counseled  an  acquiescence  in  the  returns  as 
shown  on  their  face,  stating  that  the  outcome  of  the 
suit  would  be  uncertain,  and  that  it  would  certainly  be 
expensive,  so  the  matter  was  dropped  and  the  second 
election  gave  the  decision  to  Union.  Had  those  six 
votes    for   "Forest"    Cove   been   counted    for   Cove,    it 


370  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

would  have  put  that  place  in  the  contest  against  La 
Grande,  and  it  would  without  doubt  have  been  chosen 
the  county-seat.  This  would  have  surely  affected  ma- 
terially the  political  history  of  Union  County,  as  well  as 
the  public  careers  of  many  of  its  prominent  citizens,  for 
in  the  forty  years  following  men  have  been  voted  up  and 
voted  down  and  voted  out  with  a  beautiful  disregard  for 
fitness  or  political  affiliation — the  all-important  question 
being  as  to  their  stand  on  the  fight  between  Union  and 
La  Grande.  For  thirty-five  years  it  raged  with  relent- 
less fury,  and  after  the  first  steps  were  taken  'way  back 
in  the  early  days,  boys  were  born,  grew  to  manhood, 
became  candidates  for  office  and  were  slaughtered, 
whether  Republicans  or  Democrats,  sickened,  died  and 
passed  to  their  reward — but  the  old  fight  kept  up  with 
unabated  interest  and  with  frequent  stiletto  thrusts, 
followed  by  telling  results. 

Southeast  of  the  town  of  Union  is  what  has  long  been 
known  as  the  "Panhandle,"  a  narrow  strip  of  country 
which  runs  out  into  the  Cornucopia  Mountains,  forty 
miles  away,  and  which  geographically  belongs  to  Baker 
County,  but  its  attachment  to  Union  County  upon  its 
creation  had  given  to  Union  its  political  strength,  or. 
rather,  its  balance  of  power  in  the  struggle  for  the 
retention  of  the  county-seat.  For  years  efforts  were 
made  to  have  it  joined  to  Baker  County,  as  most  of  the 
people,  when  obliged  to  go  to  Union  on  business  of  any 
kind,  went  to  Baker  City,  left  their  teams  there  and  went 
to  Union  by  train.  It  was  held  that,  since  a  trip  to 
Union  necessitated  going  through  Baker,  they  might 
as  well  belong  to  that  county  and  save  this  extra  travel. 

But  the  change  was  always  stubbornly  resisted  by 
Union,  for  obvious  reasons.  At  the  legislative  session 
of  1901,  however,  a  bill  for  that  purpose  was  passed 
after  a  most  bitter  contest.  It  was  fathered  by  Senator 
William  Smith,  of  Baker,  and  the  opposition  was  led 
by  Senator  Wade,  of  Union.  It  had  passed  the  House 
without  being  seriously  contested,  it  being  the  intention 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  371 

of  the  Union  people  to  center  their  efforts  upon  kilHng 
the  measure  in  the  Senate.  On  the  morning  of  the  day 
upon  which  it  had  been  made  a  special  order,  Senator 
Smith  came  into  my  office  and  said  he  had  heard  that 
I  intended  to  do  what  I  could  to  defeat  the  "Panhandle" 
bill  in  the  Senate.  I  assured  him  that  such  report  was 
entirely  unfounded,  that  I  intended  to  keep  my  hands 
off  the  contest,  it  being  a  local  measure,  and  that  the 
winning  side  might  rest  assured  that  no  executive  veto 
would  interfere  with  the  result  of  the  final  vote.  Senator 
Smith  went  away  saying  that  that  was  all  he  asked. 

Within  an  hour  Senator  Wade  entered  my  office  in 
a  somewhat  excited  state  of  mind  and  said  the  report 
had  reached  him  that  I  intended  to  assist  the  Baker 
County  people  in  their  effort  to  wrest  the  "Panhandle" 
from  his  county,  upon  which  I  gave  him  the  same  as- 
surance I  had  extended  to  Senator  Smith — which  was 
perfectly  satisfactory  to  him. 

After  a  debate  which  consumed  much  of  the  forenoon, 
the  vote  was  taken  and  Baker  County  won  the  "Pan- 
handle." Personally,  I  regretted  the  result,  since  I  had 
been  so  closely  connected  with  the  people  of  Union  in 
my  boyhood  days,  but  it  was  not  a  case  w^here  there 
would  be  any  justification  for  interference  and  I  per- 
mitted the  law  to  stand. 

A  strong  effort  was  made,  however,  by  the  people  of 
Union  to  induce  me  to  veto  the  measure,  and  they 
secured  a  large  petition — signed,  it  was  said,  by  many 
citizens  of  the  Panhandle — but  as  my  stand  had  been 
taken  and  assurance  given  to  the  contrary,  it  was  im- 
possible to  comply  with  their  request. 

Six  years  after  this  episode  I  was  a  candidate  before 
the  people  under  the  direct  primary  law  for  the  Repub- 
lican nomination  for  Governor,  and  came  within  some 
two  hundred  and  fifty  votes  of  winning  it.  A  more 
complete  scanning  of  the  vote  cast  after  the  different 
counties  were  heard  from  by  precincts  disclosed  the  in- 
teresting, as  well  as  significant,  fact  that  of  the  two 
precincts  in  the  town  of  Union,  the  Republicans  had 


272  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

cast  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  votes,  and  but  three 
of  them  had  been  given  to  me !  Always  before,  when 
a  candidate.  I  had  received  practically  the  unanimous 
support  of  the  Union  Republicans,  which,  if  accorded 
me  on  the  occasion  referred  to,  would  have  given  me 
the  nomination  for  Governor. 

Immediately  after  the  passage  of  the  "Panhandle" 
bill  a  vote  was  taken  upon  the  re-location  of  the  county- 
seat  in  Union  County,  and  La  Grande  won  it  from 
Union  by  quite  a  decided  majority.  So  far  as  I  can 
see,  that  solar  plexus  I  received  at  the  hands  of  Union 
was  the  last  exhibition  of  the  bitterness  which  had  been 
raging  in  that  county  for  thirty-five  years  as  to  the  loca- 
tion of  the  county-seat. 

Union  is  a  beautiful  little  city,  in  the  midst  of  one 
of  the  best  agricultural  sections  in  the  West,  has  a 
splendid  water  power,  vast  timber  resources,  a  fine  lot 
of  people  of  the  substantial  pioneer  stock  and  is  pro- 
gressing rapidly  in  its  development — even  without  the 
county  capital,  and  the  rest  from  an  eternal  wrangle 
which  it  is  enjoying  hath  its  compensations  which  are 
not  to  be  despised. 

But  a  county-seat  contest  is  surely  noted  for  its 
vitality.  It  has  a  faculty  of  staying  "put."  It  usually 
has  nine  lives,  and  one  never  knows  when  it  is  loaded. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

In  the  spring  of  1874,  when  the  State  campaign 
opened,  there  appeared  to  be  more  activity  in  political 
circles  than  usual.  The  Republicans  of  Union  County 
were  early  in  the  field  and,  though  in  a  hopeless  minority 
on  a  straight  vote,  always  had  that  buoyant  feeling  that 
alone  keeps  life  in  minorities.  Two  years  before  that 
Samuel  Hannah,  a  prominent  merchant  in  Union,  had 
defeated  James  Hendershott  for  re-election  to  the  State 
Senate.  It  was  on  a  local  issue,  however,  involving  the 
re-location  of  the  overland  stage  line  over  the  Summer- 
ville  route — really  a  forerunner  of  the  county-seat  con- 
test— but  Hannah  was  a  Republican  and  his  party  took 
to  itself  all  the  glory  of  a  purely  partisan  victory. 

Sam  Hannah  was  a  man  of  high  character,  had  close 
connections  with  the  people  of  Union  County,  which 
gave  him  a  strong  prestige,  and  had  the  advantage  over 
Hendershott  of  never  having  been  in  political  life — a 
lever  which  many  good  men  have  discovered  is  worth 
a  great  many  votes  in  a  political  campaign.  Often  an 
admittedly  third-rate  man  will  receive  more  votes  for  a 
public  position  than  his  opponent,  if  the  latter  has  oc- 
cupied an  important  office  where  he  has  been  obliged  to 
disappoint  a  dozen  or  two  people  in  the  selection  of 
an  incumbent  for  some  position  carrying  a  salary  of 
three  hundred  per  annum. 

Incidentally  this  reminds  me  of  a  remark  once  made 
to  me  by  the  late  Senator  John  H.  Mitchell,  to  the  effect 
that  in  his  extended  experience  in  disposing  of  public 
patronage  he  had  discovered  that  when  you  have  a  good 
appointment  at  your  disposal  there  will  be.  on  an 
average,  ten  aspirants  for  the  job.  In  the  performance 
of  your  duty  you  are  obliged  to  select  one  of  the  ten, 
with  the  result  that  you  have  probably  made  nine 
enemies  and  one — ingrate! 

273 


274  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

However,  Sam  Hannah  had  every  qualification  for 
his  position  in  the  State  Senate  and  discharged  his  duties 
in  a  very  acceptable  manner.  For  ten  years  or  more 
he  filled  a  large  place  in  the  affairs  of  Union  County 
and  died  at  his  home  in  Union  in  the  early  '8o's.  His 
election  marked  the  first  break  of  the  Republicans  of 
Union  County  into  the  solid  ranks  of  the  Democracy. 
They  had  never  been  able  to  obtain  any  position,  high 
or  low,  and  the  discovery  that  the  thing  was  possible 
came  as  a  revelation  where  no  hope  had  been  entertained. 
At  that  time  one  of  the  most  outspoken  Republicans  in 
the  Grand  Ronde  valley  was  John  W.  Norval  of 
Summerville.  For  several  years  there  had  been  but 
three  Republicans  in  Summerville  precinct,  but  at  each 
recurring  primary  meeting  they  always  "'assembled"  and 
sent  their  delegate  up  to  La  Grange  to  attend  the  Re- 
publican county  convention.  Norval  was  the  delegate. 
With  the  regularity  of  a  good  clock,  these  three  men 
met  every  two  years  in  the  Summerville  schoolhouse 
and  organized  by  the  election  of  Norval  as  chairman 
and  the  second  man  as  secretary;  the  third  would  take 
the  floor  and  make  the  necessary  motions.  And  it  was 
no  ordinary  affair  for  those  three  men  who,  through 
good  report  and  bad,  held  the  citadel  against  the  foes 
of  good  government,  for  the  primaries  came  only  every 
two  years  and  the  occasion  was  always  used  for  the 
passage  of  a  string  of  resolutions  denouncing  the 
Democratic  party,  which  was  longer  and  more  com- 
prehensive than  an  average  national  platform  of  either 
of  the  parties.  Usually  these  resolutions  would  recite 
the  origin  of  parties,  show  how,  by  degrees,  the  princi- 
ples of  the  Republican  party  had  become  necessary  to 
the  preservation  of  the  national  life  and  the  progress  of 
mankind,  vow  eternal  devotion  to  the  glorious  tenets  of 
the  "grand  old  party,"  and  close  by  promising  the 
unanimous  support  of  the  Republicans  of  Summerville 
precinct  to  the  tickets  to  be  nominated.  Incidentally, 
Lincoln  and  Grant  were  mentioned  frequently  in  the 
body  of  the  pronunciamento. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  275 

Nerval  was  an  able  man  and  the  conditions  then  pre- 
vailing in  political  life  were  conducive  to  intensity  of 
feeling.  I  do  not  recall  that  there  was  any  criticism 
from  any  Republican  quarter  of  his  radicalism,  but, 
rather,  envy  of  his  ability  in  that  direction. 

The  election  of  a  State  Senator  by  the  Republicans  of 
Union  County  in  1872  served  to  inspire  hope  in  the 
bosoms  of  several  budding  politicians  that  the  miracle 
might  be  repeated.  The  result  was  that  there  was  an 
unusual  scramble  for  nominations  in  the  county  con- 
vention, which  met  in  La  Grande.  Among  those  who 
were  anxious  to  trust  their  fortunes  to  the  electorate 
were  Norval  and  myself.  I  do  not  now  remember  whether 
Norval  was  nominated,  but  it  was  conceded  that  the  east 
side  of  the  valley  should  have  one  representative  on  the 
ticket  for  the  Legislature,  but  in  the  convention  a  man 
named  Ross,  living  in  the  Eagle  Creek  country,  defeated 
me  by  one  vote  and  was  successful  at  the  ensuing  June 
election.  His  colleague  was  Dunham  Wright,  a  Dem- 
ocrat who  had  been  a  member  of  the  previous  Legisla- 
ture. 

The  State  campaign  of  1874  was  given  an  unusually 
spicy  flavor  by  the  Independent  movement,  which  put 
a  full  ticket  in  the  field  as  a  protest  against  the  regular 
Republicans.  Its  chief  interest  centered  in  the  three- 
cornered  congressional  contest,  the  Republicans  having 
nominated  Richard  Williams  of  Portland,  the  Demo- 
crats George  A.  La  Dow  of  Umatilla  and  the  Inde- 
pendents T.  W.  Davenport  of  Marion.  Williams  at  that 
time  was  one  of  the  best-known  lawyers  in  the  State, 
as  he  is  to-day;  Davenport  was  a  farmer,  living  in  the 
Waldo  Hills,  who  had  served  several  terms  in  the  Legisla- 
ture, was  a  man  of  unquestionable  ability,  but  never  in  har- 
mony with  any  organization  whose  numerical  strength 
was  suflficient  to  enable  it  to  accomplish  its  avowed  pur- 
poses. Davenport  was  always  on  the  side  of  the  opposi- 
tion, no  matter  what  the  subject  or  occasion,  and  was 
gifted  enough  to  defend  his  attitude  with  a  degree  of 
plausibility  that  was  surprising. 


276  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

In  the  campaign  of  1874  he  and  WilHams  made  a 
joint  canvass  of  the  State,  addressing  the  audiences  by 
dividing  time,  and  it  proved  perhaps  the  most  memorable 
in  the  poHtical  history  of  Oregon.  WilHams  was  no 
less  resourceful  as  a  campaigner  than  as  a  lawyer,  but 
he  was  put  on  his  mettle,  as  he  freely  admits,  in  this 
forensic  encounter  with  Davenport,  whose  defense  for 
his  eccentric  course  in  politics  rested  on  the  general 
idea  embraced  in  Emerson's  declaration  that  "con- 
sistency is  the  deadly  enemy  of  progress,"  and  that  he 
would  say  just  what  he  thought  to-day,  though  it  might 
give  the  lie  to  all  he  said  yesterday. 

Davenport's  first  wife  (the  mother  of  Homer),  the 
daughter  of  Ralph  C.  Geer,  was  my  first  cousin.  He 
was  two  years  older  than  my  father  and  I  had  known 
him  intimately  all  my  life.  When  the  meeting  with  Wil- 
liams and  Davenport  was  held  in  La  Grande,  I  went 
over  from  the  Cove,  and  as  it  was  Saturday,  he  returned 
with  me  to  my  home  and  remained  over  until  Monday, 
when  we  went  to  Union  where  the  next  meeting  was 
held.  It  was  a  treat  to  listen  to  such  a  war  of  words 
between  two  such  antagonists  as  they  were.  It  was  all 
good  natured — on  the  surface — but  there  was  a  deadly 
undercurrent  of  sarcasm,  ridicule,  cutting  repartee  and 
irony.  Of  these,  of  course,  irony  hurt  the  most.  It 
were  well  if  we  all  followed  the  sage  advice  of  an  old 
woman  who  observed  this  fact:  "People  should  never 
ironize!" 

At  La  Grande  Davenport  had  referred  to  a  severe 
criticism  by  Williams  of  one  of  his  actions  when  a 
member  of  the  Legislature  in  1868.  and  inquired  why 
he  (Williams)  had  supported  him  for  re-election  in  1870 
if  he  considered  him  so  grossly  culpable.  As  Williams, 
in  his  reply  at  La  Grande,  paid  no  attention  to  Daven- 
port's inquiry,  at  Union  Davenport  insistently  repeated 
his  demand  for  an  answer,  his  courage  seeming  to  be 
reinforced  by  Williams'  attitude.     He  said : 

"I  should  like  Mr.  Williams  to  tell  this  audience,  here 
and  now,  in  my  presence,   why  he  supported  me   for 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  2-]-] 

reelection  in  1870  if  my  record  in  1868  was  so  open  to 


censure." 


Mr.  Williams  was  sitting  on  the  platform  and  there 
was  no  escape.  But  as  Davenport  paused  and  turned 
toward  him,  he  arose,  walked  to  the  front  of  the  stage 
and,  standing  by  the  side  of  Davenport,  said : 

''Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  confess  that  I  had  not 
intended  to  explain  this  matter,  rather  preferring  to 
pass  it  by;  but  as  Mr.  Davenport  has  insisted  upon  it, 
I  may  as  well  say  that  I  supported  him  for  reelection 
for  the  reason  that,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  his  Demo- 
cratic opponent  was  a  meaner  man  than  he  was." 

The  effect  of  this  retort  was  sufficient  completely  to 
unhorse  Davenport,  who  had  brought  it  upon  himself, 
and  as  Williams  stood  by  his  side  a  moment  longer  and 
looked  him  in  the  face,  while  the  entire  audience  shouted 
with  uproarious  laughter,  it  presented  one  of  the  most 
ludicrous  scenes  of  a  notable  campaign. 

George  A.  La  Dow,  the  Democratic  candidate,  re- 
mained at  his  home  at  Weston,  Umatilla  County,  while 
this  battle  was  waged  by  his  more  pugnacious  rivals. 
He  was  not  known  outside  of  his  county,  did  not  leave 
it  during  the  campaign — and  was  elected.  Williams  and 
Davenport  so  divided  the  Republican  vote  that  both  were 
defeated,  though  each  gave  the  other  "a  run  for  his 
money,"  and  the  people  an  intellectual  treat  of  the  first 
quality.  La  Dow  died  before  taking  his  seat,  and  at  a 
special  election  held  in  November,  1875,  Lafayette  Lane, 
of  Douglas  County,  a  Democrat,  was  chosen  to  fill  the 
vacancy. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

One  of  the  very  pleasant  experiences  of  my  life  in 
eastern  Oregon  was  a  trip  to  the  Wallowa  valley  and 
to  the  wonderfully  beautiful  lake  of  the  same  name,  in 
August,  1875.  That  was  several  years  before  Wallowa 
County  was  created  by  slicing  off  the  northern  half  of 
Union.  At  that  time  there  were  not  more  than  a  dozen 
settlers  in  all  that  territory  which  is  now  included  in 
Wallowa  County,  and  they  had  gone  there  in  search 
of  range,  it  not  being  considered  at  that  time  suitable 
for  any  other  purpose.  The  fact  is,  at  the  beginning  of 
its  settlement  it  was  thought  that  only  those  went  to 
Wallowa  who  cared  little  for  the  advantages  of  civiliza- 
tion and  were  willing  to  bid  farewell  to  their  friends, 
if  they  had  any,  and  embrace  the  life  of  a  hermit. 

But  marvelous  tales  were  borne  to  the  Grand  Ronde 
valley  of  the  opportunities  it  offered  for  hunting  big 
game — deer,  elk  and  bear — while  some  of  the  fish  stories 
told  by  Sam  Van  Order  and  his  father,  who  had  made 
the  trip  two  or  three  times  on  packhorses,  were  accepted 
as  "figments  of  the  imagination,"  intended  only  to  excite 
envy.  But  samples  of  the  famous  red  fish,  which  they 
said  abounded  in  the  lake  in  almost  incredible  numbers, 
were  brought  out,  and  since  "seeing  is  believing"  they 
created  an  irresistible  longing  on  the  part  of  many  of 
us  to  hie  ourselves  away  to  the  land  which  produced 
such  wonders. 

Accordingly,  a  party  consisting  of  S.  G.  French, 
O.  P.  Jaycox,  Robert  Eakin,  Dr.  J.  W.  Givens,  Girard 
Cochran,  Alex  Cochran.  I.ee  Vincent  and  myself,  with 
Mrs.  James  Hendershott  and  Misses  Allie  Cochran, 
Ella  Cochran,  Josie  Cochran  and  Nellie  Condon — 
thirteen  in  number — left  the  Cove  on  the  morning  of 
August  16,  187c;,  bent  on  a  two  weeks'  outing,  the 
objective  point  being  Wallowa  Lake. 

27S 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  279 

In  the  wagon  we  placed  an  old  skiff — where  it  was 
obtained  I  never  knew — and  in  this,  as  well  as  around 
it,  was  piled  all  the  paraphernalia  needed  in  a  camping 
outfit  for  such  a  crowd.  Six  of  the  party  took  riding 
horses,  and  these  were  used,  in  turn,  by  all  of  us.  The 
second  day,  at  noon,  we  reached  the  Wallowa  River 
at  its  junction  with  the  Minem,  where  a  toll  bridge  had 
just  been  completed  by  A.  C.  Smith,  of  the  Cove.  The 
second  night  we  camped  in  the  lower  end  of  what  is 
known  as  the  "lower"  Wallowa  valley  in  a  meadow 
owned  by  Mr.  Bramlette,  the  first  settler  in  that  whole 
region.  His  hay  had  been  cut  and  was  in  the  cock — 
that  is,  it  was  in  the  latter  condition  when  we  arrived, 
but  the  next  morning,  alas,  as  we  broke  camp  and  drove 
away,  about  an  acre  of  his  meadow  looked  as  though 
a  cyclone  had  passed  that  way.  We  learned  afterwards 
that  the  Wallowa  valley  is  subject  to  violent  winds  and 
that  haying  time  is  no  exception. 

The  third  day  we  reached  the  lower  end  of  Wallowa 
Lake  and  made  our  camp  among  a  grove  of  magnificent 
cottonwoods.  The  location  is  not  surpassed  for  beauty 
anywhere  in  the  United  States.  Although  thousands  of 
of  our  people  go  abroad  each  year  and  spend  millions 
of  dollars  in  their  quest  for  the  scenic  wonders  of  the 
world,  the  results  are  dwarfed  in  comparison  with  the 
lavish  displays  of  Nature  throughout  the  great  North- 
west. 

In  approaching  Wallowa  Lake  one  gets  no  hint  that 
such  a  body  of  water,  or  indeed  any  body  of  water,  is 
within  a  thousand  miles  until  the  road  reaches  the 
summit  of  a  small  ridge,  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
edge  of  this  little  inland  gem.  It  is  four  miles  in  length 
and  one  mile  wide,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  heavily 
timbered  mountains  and  modest  foothills,  which  at  that 
time  were  covered  with  a  magnificent  growth  of  eastern 
Oregon's  famous  bunch  grass.  The  lake  is  fed  by  a 
dozen  small  streams  which  rush  from  the  adjacent  moun- 
tains in  the  greatest  apparent  glee  in  the  enjoyment  of 
their  new-found  liberty,   only  to   be  lost   in  the  calm 


28o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

waters  of  the  lake,  whose  depth  in  some  places  is  known 
to  be  eight  hundred  feet. 

The  only  outlet  of  this  surpassingly  beautiful  body 
of  water  is  at  its  extreme  northwestern  side  and  is  known 
as  the  Wallowa  River,  which  flows  with  great  rapidity, 
but  with  gradual  fall,  through  the  entire  length  of  the 
Wallowa  valley,  thirty  miles  in  distance,  only  at  that 
point  to  plunge  into  a  narrow  canyon,  which  it  follows 
for  ten  miles.  It  then  receives  the  waters  of  the  Minem, 
which  heads  in  the  mountains  immediately  back  of  the 
Cove.  Some  ten  miles  below  this  junction  the  Wallowa 
is  received  into  the  Grand  Ronde. 

Our  camp  was  located  near  the  point  where  the  river 
leaves  the  lake,  or,  rather,  where  the  river  is  formed. 
As  the  tents  were  pitched  and  everything  arranged  by 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Mr.  French  and  Girard 
Cochran  insisted  that  we  should  launch  our  skiff  and 
proceed  to  the  upper  end  of  the  lake,  four  miles  away, 
and  ascertain  the  particular  percentage  of  truth  there 
might  be  in  the  fish  stories  we  had  heard.  The  boat 
was,  of  course,  a  leaky  tub,  but  we  waited  until  the 
absorption  of  water  by  the  dry  boards  had  expanded 
the  timber  and  reduced  the  cracks  to  their  minimum 
size,  and  reached  our  destination  without  any  mishap; 
but  it  required  the  ceaseless  activity  of  Girard,  bailing 
out  the  water  with  a  milk  pan  as  fast  as  it  ran  in,  to 
keep  us   afloat. 

Such  astonishing  results  rewarded  our  efforts  tjiat 
from  that  day  I  have  believed  every  fish  story  that  has 
been  told  me.  As  we  had  no  way  to  fasten  the  boat 
when  we  arrived,  I  proposed  to  sit  in  it  to  prevent  its 
drifting  away  while  my  two  companions  started  on  a 
tour  of  investigation.  None  of  the  streams  which  feed 
the  lake  is  deeper  than  one  foot  in  August,  and  at  that 
time  of  the  day  the  fish  were  all  in  these  streams.  We 
had  been  told  that  no  tackle  was  needed  to  catch  them 
but  only  a  club — that  they  were  so  thick  in  the  water 
one  could  almost  pick  them  up  by  wading  in  where  it 
was  little  more  than  shoe-mouth  deep.     As  my  com- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  281 

panions  approached  the  bank  of  the  stream,  after  land- 
ing, I  saw  them  jump  into  the  water  and  begin  striking 
right  and  left.  I  had  told  them  that  I  would  not  get 
my  feet  wet  for  all  the  fish  we  might  catch,  and  this 
was  my  real  reason  for  remaining  in  the  boat. 

But  after  two  or  three  plunges  one  of  the  men  made 
a  grab  under  the  water  and  threw  upon  the  bank  a 
speckled  beauty  at  least  twenty  inches  in  length  and  as 
red  as  a  well-matured  beet.  The  next  thing  I  knew — 
the  next  thing  anybody  knew — I  was  "in  the  midst" 
of  my  two  companions,  striking  at  the  red  fish  with  an 
oar  which  I  had  unconsciously  taken  as  a  weapon. 
After  landing  two  or  three  in  as  many  minutes,  I  looked 
for  my  associate  anglers,  only  to  see  them  sitting  on  the 
bank  roaring  with  laughter  as  they  recalled  my  in- 
sistence upon  being  permitted  to  sit  in  the  boat  while 
they  waded  into  the  water.  They  soon  recovered  suf- 
ficiently, however,  to  call  my  attention  to  the  boat,  whicTi 
was  slowly  drifting  away,  and  I  was  compelled  to  rush 
into  the  water  nearly  shoulder  deep  in  order  to  rescue 
our  craft. 

The  real  truth  is  that  at  that  time  it  is  likely  no  body 
of  water  in  the  world  of  its  size  had  such  a  large  supply 
of  fish  of  equal  quality  as  had  Wallowa  Lake.  The  red 
fish  has  never  been  seen  anywhere  else  and  has  for 
several  years  been  entirely  extinct.  Its  average  length 
w^as  about  eighteen  inches  and  it  had  the  general  ap- 
pearance and  flavor  of  the  famous  Chinook  salmon  of 
the  Columbia  River.  This  lake  had  been  the  favorite 
fishing  resort  for  the  Nez  Perce  Indians  from  time  im- 
memorial, and  it  was  to  retain  possession  of  it  and  the 
valley  surrounding  it.  that  Chief  Joseph  made  his  stand 
against  the  white  settlers  in  1878. 

The  following  days  were  spent  in  the  enjo}iTient  of 
the  unequaled  facilities  which  the  place  afforded  for 
a  happy  camp  life — hunting,  fishing,  boat-riding,  read- 
ing, story-telling,  attempts  at  singing,  cooking  and  ex- 
ploring the  surrounding  country.  It  was  a  most  de- 
lightful week. 


282  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  second  day  after  making  our  camp  the  entire 
party  went  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  some  by  water,  the 
others  taking  the  horses.  There  was  a  fair  Indian  trail 
around  the  eastern  side,  generally  maintaining  a  grade 
some  twenty  feet  above  the  edge  of  the  water.  When 
a  half-mile  away  from  the  upper  end  of  the  lake,  the 
surface  of  the  water  for  several  hundred  feet  from  the 
mouths  of  the  small  supplying  creeks  toward  the  deeper 
water  gave  out  a  well-defined  reddish  cast,  so  many  tens 
of  thousands  of  these  fish  were  there,  swaying  in  schools, 
evidently  feeding  upon  the  deposits  coming  from  the 
mountains.  Of  course  this  sounds  incredible,  but  con- 
sidering the  nature  of  the  story  and  the  subject  with 
which  it  deals  I  trust  it  will  be  accepted  as  the  un- 
varnished truth — which  it  is. 

The  wonderful  abundance  of  the  fish  and  the  ease 
with  which  they  could  be  caught  naturally  suggested 
taking  home  with  us  a  supply  large  enough,  at  least  to 
corroborate  our  stories. 

But,  having  been  skeptics  ourselves  before  making  this 
trip,  we  had  disregarded  the  advice  of  those  who  had  been 
there  ahead  of  us  to  provide  barrels  for  packing,  so  we 
were  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  A  detachment  of  our 
party  finally  visited  the  home  of  a  settler  a  few  miles 
away  and  succeeded  in  securing  two  sugar  barrels, 
which,  as  is  generally  known,  are  not  made  either  for 
durability  or  for  holding  liquids. 

But  they  were  barrels,  and  with  these  and  a  small 
quantity  of  salt  the  entire  party  went  to  the  head  of 
the  lake  again,  on  the  day  before  we  intended  to  start 
home,  on  our  last  fishing  trip.  This  was  the  process  of 
catching  them :  Since  all  the  small  streams  were  filled 
with  the  desired  game — if  fish  may  be  called  game — 
two  men  would  enter  the  water  at  a  given  point;  two 
others  were  stationed  fifty  feet  away,  armed  with  sticks 
large  enough  to  stun  a  fish,  and  as  they  approached  each 
other  the  battle  would  rage  fast  and  furiously,  the  net 
result  usually  being  at  least  a  dozen  victims  within  five 
minutes,  or  even  less  time.     We  had  with  us  a  long- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  283 

handled  pitchfork,  and  as  fast  as  the  men  would  throw 
the  fish  ashore,  two  others  would  string  them  on  this 
fork  handle  by  running  the  end  through  one  of  their 
gills — pushing  them  close  together  until  there  were  at 
least  a  dozen,  leaving  six  inches  of  space  at  the  end  of  the 
handle  to  rest  on  a  man's  shoulder.  With  the  fork 
itself  on  the  shoulder  of  the  other  man,  the  two  would 
carry  the  load  to  the  temporary  camp  under  some  cotton- 
wood  trees  fifty  yards  away.  When  the  end  of  the 
handle  was  dropped  to  the  ground  the  fish  would  slip 
off  in  a  second — and  in  a  huge  pile — presenting  a  beau- 
tiful prospect  for  the  women  folks,  who,  assisted  by  a 
man  or  two,  were  dressing  and  packing  the  fruits  of  the 
exciting  raids. 

Within  less  than  two  hours  we  had  both  barrels  filled 
to  the  brim.  We  were  only  sorry  we  had  not  more,  for 
the  sport,  while  seemingly  somewhat  brutal,  nevertheless 
was  such  as  one  would  never  find  elsewhere ;  and  as  far 
as  we  knew  then  the  results  could  not  be  accomplished 
by  any  other  means.  Besides,  as  there  were  many  dead 
fish  here  and  there  along  the  banks  we  decided  that  we 
were  only  anticipating  the  ordinary  course  of  nature 
anyway.  In  fact,  many  of  those  we  caught  were  in  the 
condition  of  a  spawning  salmon  and  were  discarded. 

However,  on  one  of  the  creeks  we  discovered  a  method 
of  catching  these  fish  which  had  been  employed  by 
some  one  who  had  preceded  us,  perhaps  by  some  Indians. 
Where  the  stream  had  been  inclined  to  spread  out  over  a 
rocky  bar  this  inclination  had  been  encouraged  by  the 
construction  of  a  dam  made  by  placing  small  logs  cross- 
wise of  the  current,  the  water  being  less  than  a  foot 
deep,  thus  forcing  it  around  the  light  obstruction  and 
into  the  small  boulders,  which  under  the  circumstances 
remained  mostly  uncovered.  In  other  words,  the  stream 
was  made  so  wide  that  there  was  not  sufficient  water  in 
any  one  place  to  cover  a  red  fish.  With  the  creek  so 
arranged,  a  couple  of  men  would  go  fifty  yards  above 
this  contrivance  had  cut  off  a  lot  of  fish  which  had 
reached  the  stream  by  means  of  another,  which  sepa- 


284  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

rated  from  it  atxDve  and  took  its  own  course  to  the  lai.e. 
With  the  fish  thus  frightened,  they  would  dash  down 
the  stream  with  hghtning  rapidity  and,  coming  to  this 
shallow  water  where  it  disappeared  among  the  round  and 
well-washed  boulders,  would  "scoot"  out  on  the  shore, 
where  all  the  angler  had  to  do  was  to  stoop  over  and 
pick  them  up. 

Just  to  try  our  hands  at  this  sort  of  fishing,  we  scared 
two  "herds"  of  fish  down  onto  this  rocky  bar  and  secured 
a  dozen  each  time,  putting  them  back  in  the  water,  how- 
ever, to  prevent  needless  waste  of  life. 

The  next  day  after  this  interesting  and  exciting  epi- 
sode we  broke  camp  and  started  for  home,  the  entire 
trip  being  declared  by  unanimous  vote  a  gratifying  suc- 
cess from  every  point  of  view.  We  left  the  old  skiff  in 
the  lake,  and  since  it  was  longer  than  the  wagon  bed, — 
I  mean  the  boat,  not  the  lake, — we  had  taken  no  "end 
gate"  with  us.  When  we  started  home,  after  loading 
our  other  goods  and  chattels,  we  placed  the  two  barrels 
of  fish,  each  weighing  nearly  a  hundred  pounds,  in  the 
extreme  back  of  the  wagon  bed  and  secured  them  by 
tying  a  piece  of  baling  rope  across  from  side  to  side. 
We  were  somewhat  afraid  of  this  improvised  "end  gate," 
but  as  there  was  nothing  else  available  we  trusted  to 
luck. 

It  has  already  been  observed  that  at  the  time  there 
were  no  roads  in  that  section  and  the  team  was  travel- 
ing across  country,  taking  the  general  course  of  the 
compass  for  a  guide.  Robert  Eakin  and  I  were  following 
the  wagon  on  horseback  at  a  distance  of  fifty  yards,  and 
had  proceeded  about  six  miles  when,  just  as  we  w^re 
discussing  the  durability  of  that  baling  rope  substitute, 
we  saw  both  barrels  fall  to  the  ground  as  the  wagon  was 
crossing  a  shallow  gulch.  We  at  once  hurried  forward 
and  the  sight  that  met  our  gaze  was  one  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Those  sugar  barrels,  with  their  slight  hoops, 
had  collapsed  completely,  and  every  vestige  of  them  was 
buried  beneath  what  appeared  to  be  a  ton  of  fish.  Being 
exceedingly  slippery,   the   contents   of  the  barrels  had 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  285 

spread  over  at  least  a  square  rod  of  ground — and  were 
still  spreading.  By  vigorous  shouting  we  managed  to 
call  those  back  who  were  ahead,  and  with  the  entire 
crowd  assembled  around  the  crimson-colored  mass  there 
was  a  full  half-hour  spent  in  roars  of  unceasing  laughter. 

We  tried  to  save  a  few  of  the  fish  to  take  home,  but 
each  time  we  picked  one  up,  the  disturbed  pile  would 
extend  its  boundaries  in  every  direction  until,  when  we 
finally  resumed  our  journey,  it  covered  the  greater  part 
of  a  half-acre  of  virgin  prairie.  This  happened  about 
where  the  town  of  Enterprise,  the  county  seat  of  Wal- 
lowa County,  stands  to-day.  We  arrived  at  the  Cove 
with  about  a  dozen  fish,  which  we  presented  to  our 
friends  as  the  strongest  kind  of  evidence — having  no 
brine  and  it  being  August — that  we  had  actually  been  to 
the  famous  fishing  grounds  at  Wallowa  Lake. 

I  have  felt  some  hesitation  in  relating  this  fishing 
experience  in  Wallowa  County  in  the  early  days,  since 
for  some  reason  any  description  one  may  give  in  con- 
nection with  this  sort  of  pleasure  is  usually  accepted  as 
a  product  of  the  imagination,  though,  also,  one  is  usually 
easily  forgiven  for  his  departure  from  the  truth  while 
telling  a  fish  story.  And,  speaking  of  fishing  experiences, 
I  am  reminded  of  a  story  related  once  upon  a  time  by 
Justice  Frank  A.  Moore,  of  the  Oregon  Supreme  Court, 
to  a  small  crowd  of  us  in  the  corridor  of  the  State 
Capitol.  I  am  not  certain  whether  he  said  he  knew  the 
man  or  not.  but  at  any  rate  this  was  the  story : 

"An  old  fellow,"  said  Judge  Moore,  "of  a  kindly  dis- 
position and  with  plenty  of  both  money  and  time  on  his 
hands,  came  into  possession  of  a  beautiful  live  trout 
about  a  foot  long,  and  while  admiring  it  happened  to 
recall  that  he  had  never  heard  of  anybody  trying  to  teach 
a  fish  tricks  of  any  kind.  He  decided,  therefore,  that 
he  would  experiment  with  this  unusually  attractive  and 
lively  specimen. 

"So  he  prepared  a  small  vessel  about  a  foot  high  and 
two  feet  across  the  top.  This  he  filled  with  water  and 
put  his  fish  in  it.    It  would  swim  around  and  around  and 


286  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  man  would  stand  by  and  talk  to  it  in  a  reassuring 
manner.  It  did  not  appear  especially  wild,  and  within 
three  or  four  days  it  became  quite  gentle  and  would  stick 
its  head  out  of  the  water  for  food  which  he  held  in  his 
hand. 

"One  day,  while  circling  around  the  tub  at  a  great 
rate,  he  gave  an  extra  flop  and  fell  out  on  the  floor.  The 
man,  frightened,  hurriedly  picked  him  up  and  replace  1 
him  in  the  water.  Discovering  that  he  could  escape  in 
this  manner,  he  did  it  again  within  a  few  minutes.  This 
antic  was  repeated  several  times,  until  the  man  concluded 
he  would  leave  him  out  of  the  water  long  enough  for 
him  to  appreciate  the  necessity  of  being  in  it. 

"To  his  surprise,  however,  the  fish  seemed  rather  to 
like  his  new  surroundings  and  his  natural  disposition 
to  wriggle  soon  taught  him  how  to  make  progress  across 
the  floor,  much  as  a  snake  would.  At  this  demonstration 
of  the  apparent  success  of  his  experiment  the  man  re- 
joiced. He  was  making  a  valuable  discovery.  In  a  few 
days  the  fish  could  get  around  the  house  with  great  ease, 
and  as  the  doorstep  was  but  little  above  the  ground  he 
soon  learned  to  get  out  in  the  grass  and  took  great 
pleasure  in  wriggling  around  through  it  while  catching 
worms  and  bugs. 

"One  day,  while  he  was  thus  enjoying  his  new  sort  of 
life,  the  man  saw  a  cow  come  into  his  garden,  which 
was  just  beyond  a  small  stream  that  ran  through  the 
yard  in  front  of  the  house.  Hurrying  across  a  footlog 
which  spanned  the  creek,  he  was  in  the  act  of  picking  up 
a  stone  to  throw  at  the  cow  when,  to  his  surprise,  he  saw 
the  fish  following  him,  wriggling  along  the  log.  Fearful 
lest  he  should  lose  his  pet,  he  rushed  back  to  the  log, 
'but,'  said  the  owner  of  the  piscatorial  freak,  in  telling 
of  the  strange  incident,  *do  you  know  that  before  I  could 
reach  him,  he  had  fallen  into  the  water,  and  before  I 
could  rescue  him,  I'll  be  d — d  if  that  fish  didn't  drown 
before  my  very  eyes!  Why,  I  wouldn't  have  taken  a 
thousand  dollars  for  the  derned  cuss.'  " 

Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  ascertained  as  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  287 

the  habits  of  fish  by  scientific  investigation,  it  is  plain 
that  much  is  yet  to  be  learned  about  them — as  well  as 
about  the  men  who  say  they  catch  them ! 

Of  the  thirteen  persons  making  that  trip  to  the  Wal- 
lowa country  thirty-five  years  ago,  all  are  living  to-day 
with  the  exception  of  S.  G.  French  and  Girard  Cochran. 
The  girls  have  all  married.  Mrs.  Hendershott  is  now 
past  eighty  years  of  age  and  in  good  health ;  Eakin 
is  on  the  Supreme  Bench  of  the  State ;  Dr.  Givens  has 
for  fifteen  years  been  superintendent  of  the  Idaho  Insane 
Asylum ;  Jaycox  is  a  prominent  merchant  in  Walla 
Walla ;  Alex  Cochran  is  a  blacksmith  in  Union ;  Vincent, 
I  have  heard,  is  in  the  Philippines,  and  th^  writer  is 
engaged  in  the  pleasant  pastime  of  telling  how  it  all 
happened. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

I  have  referred  to  the  construction  of  the  Mt.  Fanny 
Mill  in  the  Cove  during  the  summer  and  winter  of  1866, 
with  S.  G.  French  and  Henry  &  Hailey  as  owners.  Mr. 
French,  a  wealthy  member  of  an  old  New  Jersey  family, 
came  West  in  1862  because  of  failing  health.  Drifting 
to  the  Cove,  the  picturesqueness  of  the  locality  at  once 
appealed  to  him  and  he  settled  there,  acquiring  a  large 
body  of  highly  fertile  land.  He  at  once  stocked  it  with 
horses  and  cattle  and  until  his  death,  twenty  years  later, 
was  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  Union  County  and  one 
of  the  most  valuable  as  a  contributing  factor  to  its  mate- 
rial progress.  A  devout  Episcopalian,  he  built  and  en- 
dowed a  church  at  the  Cove,  furnished  a  rectory,  secured 
a  minister  from  the  East  and  established  a  school.  His 
health  continued  to  fail  by  degrees,  however,  and  he 
passed  away  in  the  '8o's  bearing  the  respect  and  esteem 
of  all  the  people  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley. 

As  his  partners  in  the  building  of  the  Mt.  Fanny  Mills 
he  associated  himself  with  two  men  from  Missouri, 
brothers-in-law  to  each  other — Dave  Henry  and  "Old 
Man  Hailey."  They  were  very  illiterate  men,  but  had 
a  small  fortune  which  they  had  amassed  by  the  practice 
of  the  greatest  frugality  (frugality  is  a  very  charitable 
word  to  use  in  this  connection  as  to  their  habits).  They 
had  been  slaveholders  in  Missouri  and  had  brought  with 
them  to  Oregon  two  or  three  negro  women  who  were 
their  housekeepers. 

As  an  instance  as  to  how  they  probably  made  their 
fortune  it  may  be  noted  that  in  the  summer  of  1869  Mr. 
Henry  wanted  a  milk-house  built  near  his  house  on  the 
bank  of  Mill  Creek,  where  the  road  crossed  it  leading 
to  the  mill.  He  asked  me  one  day  if  I  would  like  to 
undertake  the  job,  explaining  the  size  and  plan  he  de- 

2S8 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  289 

sired,  and  I  told  him  I  could  accommodate  him.  I  made 
out  the  bill  of  lumber  and  told  him  the  number  of  pounds 
of  nails  it  would  probably  require. 

"But,"  said  he,  "can't  you  make  a  house  like  that  with- 
out nails?" 

"Not  very  well,"  I  replied.  "How  could  I  build  it 
without  nails?" 

"Take  a  brace  and  bit  and  use  pins  to  hold  it  together 
— wooden  pins,"  he  said.  "I  have  built  many  a  hog-pen 
in  Missouri  with  pins.  There  is  no  use  of  wasting 
money  on  these  jerkwater  storekeepers  who  charge  six- 
teen cents  a  pound  for  nails  when  pins  will  do  as  well." 

"But,"  I  remonstrated,  "it  will  take  me  twice  or  three 
times  as  long  to  make  it  with  pins  as  with  nails,  and  it 
will  cost  more  than  to  pay  even  sixteen  cents  a  pound 
for  nails." 

"Can't  you  bore  holes  and  make  pins?"  he  inquired 
with  increased  brusqueness. 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  I'll  get  the  lumber  here  to-morrow  and  you 
come  next  day  and  go  to  work.  You  will  at  least  earn 
your  money,  and  these  jerkwater  counter-jumpers  only 
get  deeper  into  your  pocket  all  the  time." 

Accordingly,  I  made  his  milk-house  without  a  nail, 
and  while  it  never  shone  very  conspicuously  as  an  archi- 
tectural attraction,  it  stood  there  for  many  years — gradu- 
ally showing  its  independence  of  the  laws  of  symmetry. 
But  the  pins  held  the  contrary  walls  together  long  after 
the  plain  evidences  of  their  disagreement  were  visible 
at  a  distance  of  a  half-mile. 

A  few  years  afterward  Henry  &  Hailey  sold  out  all 
their  holdings  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  and  moved 
away,  nobody  ever  seemed  to  know  where.  Mr.  French 
bought  their  half-interest  in  the  mill,  as  it  was  evident 
there  was  no  congeniality  between  himself  and  his 
partners. 

The  beautiful  peak  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
range  east  of  the  Cove  is  called  "Mt.  Fanny"  in  honor 


290  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  Mrs.  Fanny  McDaniels,  one  of  the  first  women  to 
settle  in  the  Cove — in  1862 — and  the  first  white  woman 
to  reach  its  summit,  which  she  did  in  June,  1863. 

Like  most  other  early  settlements  on  the  Pacific  Coast, 
the  Cove  had  for  its  pioneers  an  unusually  active  and 
public-spirited  set  of  men.  Among  them  I  desire  to 
mention  M.  B.  Rees,  Fred  Shoemaker,  L.  R.  Bloom, 
A.  C.  Smith,  Fred  Mitchell,  James  Cochran,  James  Hen- 
dershott,  F.  W.  Duncan,  Thomas  Babington,  Samuel 
D.  Cowles,  E.  P.  McDaniels,  Otho  Eckersley,  John  Phy, 
Dunham  Wright,  Ed  Payne,  and  a  score  of  others  de- 
serving of  notice,  constituting  a  working  force  seldom 
equalled  in  any  community  new  or  old.  All  these  men 
were  there  and  actively  engaged  in  business  when  I  went, 
and  though  I  was  but  a  boy  fifteen  years  of  age,  they 
welcomed  me,  each  in  his  way,  with  cordiality.  To  many 
of  them  I  shall  always  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  the 
help  and  encouragement  they  extended.  As  in  most 
new  communities,  there  were  debating  schools,  spelling 
schools,  singing  schools,  writing  schools,  dancing  schools, 
entertainments  and  other  social  attractions  that  often, 
in  the  winter,  occupied  every  night  in  the  week. 

Those  were  the  years  when  the  Idaho  mines,  Rocky 
Bar,  Owyhee,  Bannock,  Silver  City,  Mormon  Basin  and 
many  others,  were  in  their  prime  as  producers,  and  men 
who  spent  their  summers  there  would  come  to  Grand 
Ronde  valley  for  the  winter.  Many  of  these  were  young 
men  who  had  an  abundance  of  money  with  which  to 
gratify  their  inclination  for  social  pleasures,  and  from 
the  time  of  their  arrival,  usually  in  November,  until  the 
snows  were  sufficiently  melted  for  mining  in  the  spring, 
generally  the  first  of  April,  "things  were  doing"  in  a 
social  way  in  the  Cove.  If  there  had  been  ten  nights  in 
the  week,  all  would  have  been  used  in  "passing  the  time 
away."  Money  was  no  object.  Preachers,  "fiddlers," 
dancing  teachers,  etc.,  received  for  their  pay  practically 
as  much  as  they  asked.  There  was  more  snow  in  those 
days  than  now,  it  seems,  and  sleigh-riding  was  one  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  291 

the  favorite  pleasures.  I  remember  one  winter  when 
there  were  six  weeks  of  sleigh-riding,  without  a  sem- 
blance of  a  thaw,  and  as  there  were  no  regular  "cutters," 
the  ingenuity  of  men  and  boys  was  taxed  to  the  utmost 
in  the  construction  of  sleighs,  sleds,  "bobs"  and  other 
freaks  that  would  slide  over  the  snow  and  hold  up  from 
one  to  twenty-five  people. 

Of  course  it  was  not  always  smooth  sleighing.  They 
were  frequently  breaking  down  on  account  of  the  rough 
condition  of  the  roads,  and  the  horses  used  were  prac- 
tically all  "cayuses"  secured  from  the  Indians,  or  their 
progeny  of  the  first  generation — in  either  of  which  cases 
the  spirit  of  the  Evil  One  was  always  in  control.  They 
were  noted  for  their  habit  of  running  away  without 
provocation,  or  suddenly  taking  a  notion  to  "go  across 
lots"  with  the  utmost  indifference  to  the  wishes  of  those 
whom  they  were  supposed  to  be  serving. 

I  remember  that  in  the  spring  of  1867,  when  the  "boys" 
had  departed  for  the  mines  after  a  most  strenuous  winter 
of  good  sleighing,  for  five  miles  square  in  the  Cove  the 
fence  corners,  ridges,  gulches,  cross-roads  and  byways 
were  so  strewn  with  wrecked  sleighs  (and  their  name- 
sakes) that  several  families  got  together  their  next 
winter's  firewood  by  gathering  up  the  debris.  It  looked 
as  though  an  Iowa  cyclone  had  been  taking  liberties  with 
a  million-dollar  lumber  yard. 

In  the  fall  of  1867  ^he  older  residents  and  permanent 
settlers  of  the  Cove  organized  a  debating  society  which 
tackled  without  the  slightest  hesitation  the  discussion  of 
many  of  the  great  questions  then  engrossing  the  atten- 
tion of  the  country,  and  it  is  not  straining  the  fact  very 
much — not  more,  indeed,  than  facts  are  accustomed  to 
being  strained — to  say  that  several  of  the  speakers  had 
as  clear  a  view  of  what  was  best  to  be  done,  and  expressed 
themselves  quite  as  well,  as  many  members  of  Congress 
— and  that  is  not  conferring  upon  them  any  special 
encomium  either. 

Of   these  men   M.   B,    Rees   was  perhaps   the   best 


292  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

informed.  He  was  especially  well  read  in  political  and 
religious  matters  and  was  a  good  speaker.  His  one 
prominent  characteristic  was  his  fondness  for  disputing 
and  his  impatience  of  opposition.  Having  formed  his 
conclusion  as  to  a  subject,  he  thought  that  every  other 
man  who  had  access  to  the  same  source  of  information 
should  know  enough  to  arrive  at  the  same  decision.  And 
this,  after  all,  does  not  differ  very  much  from  the  posi- 
tion of  most  of  us,  after  we  have  been  dissected  intel- 
lectually by  competent  authorities. 

Rees  was  very  critical  as  to  the  proper  use  and  pro- 
nunciation of  words,  and  never  hesitated  to  pounce  upon 
an  offender  at  the  time  the  crime  was  committed.  I 
found  this  a  great  help  to  me,  as  it  was  to  others,  though 
many  took  offense  at  his  tendency  without  realizing  its 
actual  benefit.  He  and  I  were  seldom  in  conversation 
five  minutes  without  having  recourse  to  the  dictionary, 
and  the  encounter  generally  served  to  steer  us  perma- 
nently from  the  question  originally  under  consideration. 

When,  after  ten  years,  I  returned  to  the  Willamette 
valley  I  wrote  Rees  a  letter,  and  as  a  postscript  inquired 
how  he  and  the  dictionary  were  getting  along  since  I  had 
come  away.  In  his  reply,  after  writing  of  other  matters, 
he  said : 

"As  to  the  dictionary,  after  wrestling  with  it  for  fifteen 
years  and  always  yielding  to  its  arbitrary  notions,  I  have 
decided  that  since  nine  times  out  of  ten  the  d —  thing 
differs  from  me,  I  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it." 

M.  B.  Rees  is  still  living  on  his  fine  farm  in  the  Cove, 
which  has  been  his  home  for  nearly  fifty  years,  and  is 
enjoying  life  at  the  age  of  eighty  as  a  sage  and  philoso- 
pher should. 

Another  leading  citizen  of  the  Cove  in  the  early  '6o's 
was  A.  C.  Smith,  a  man  of  very  positive  character,  a 
leading  Democrat,  who  was  usually  pitted  against  Rees 
in  all  public  meetings  where  any  sort  of  discussion  was 
in  order,  though  they  were  always  intimate  personal 
friends.     Smith  owned  one  of  the  best  hay  farms  in  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  293 

Grand  Ronde  valley,  there  being  one  body  of  two  hun- 
dred acres  of  natural  hay  that  yielded  four  hundred  tons 
every  year  without  any  labor  whatever,  aside  from  cut- 
ting and  stacking.  This  land  overflowed  every  winter 
and  spring,  remaining  quite  soft  until  not  long  before 
the  cutting  season.  One  day  in  May,  1869,  ^  cayuse 
pony,  worth  ten  dollars,  having  found  a  weak  place  in  the 
fence  surrounding  this  magnificent  meadow,  was  seen 
wending  its  way  here  and  there,  each  track  leaving  a 
hole  a  foot  deep  and  playing  havoc  with  the  smoothness 
of  its  surface.  Seeing  the  condition  of  things,  a.-d  know- 
ing that  any  effort  to  chase  the  intruder  out  by  pursuing 
him  with  a  horse  (and  any  other  method  was  out  of  the 
question)  would  only  make  matters  worse,  Smith  took 
his  Winchester  rifle,  rested  it  across  the  fence  and  began 
"pumping"  at  the  offender  some  four  hundred  yards 
distant,  with  the  result  that  the  fourth  shot  laid  him  low. 
Smith  explained  that  he  saw  no  reason  for  destroying 
fifty  dollars'  worth  of  hay  in  order  to  get  a  ten-dollar 
cayuse  out  of  his  meadow! 

Long  years  ago  he  sold  his  Cove  farm  and  for  thirty 
years  has  lived  in  Wallowa  County,  where  he  has  com- 
bined farming  with  the  practice  of  the  law,  his  admission 
to  the  bar  having  taken  place  some  years  after  his  resi- 
dence in  the  Cove. 

In  the  days  to  which  I  have  been  referring  there  was 
no  lawyer  either  in  the  Cove  or  in  Union,  ten  miles  away. 
As  there  were  many  local  difficulties  which  could  not 
be  settled  without  some  recourse  to  outside  parties,  the 
justice  of  the  peace  had  much  to  do  and  Smith  and  I 
were  often  called  upon  to  present  the  case  to  the  court 
from  the  respective  viewpoints  of  the  plaintiff  and  de- 
fendant. This  situation,  agreeable  to  us,  continued  until 
one  day  in  the  spring  of  1875  it  was  announced  that  a 
young  lawyer  had  located  in  Union.  The  very  next  case 
which  came  before  the  Cove  justice  of  the  peace,  one 
of  the  parties  employed  this  newcomer,  and  as  the  other 
was  afraid  to  trust  his  side  of  the  difficulty  to  either 


294  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Smith  or  myself,  as  against  the  real  thing  in  the  law, 
he  brought  a  lawyer  from  La  Grande  and  the  Cove  bar- 
risters were  henceforth  out  of  business. 

The  new  Union  attorney  was  Robert  Eakin,  of  Eugene, 
who  not  only  won  his  first  case,  but  afterward  was  Circuit 
Judge  of  that  district  for  many  years  and  is  now  Chief 
Justice  of  the  State  Supreme  Court.  I  have  always 
thought  it  quite  an  honor  to  have  laid  the  foundation  for 
such  a  successful  career  as  Judge  Eakin's  has  since 
proved. 

A.  C.  Smith  was  a  pioneer  in  the  WrUowa  valley  and 
built  the  first  bridge  across  the  Wallowa  River  in  about 
1874,  when  there  were  but  few  settlers  in  that  magnifi- 
cent section.  In  the  early  days  in  the  Cove  he  was  very 
friendly  to  the  Indians  and  I  have  frequently  seen  several 
hundred  camped  near  his  farm  while  on  their  way  from 
Umatilla  to  Snake  and  Wallowa  rivers  on  their  annual 
hunting  and  camping  expeditions.  He  could  talk  their 
tongue,  no  matter  what  the  tribe,  and  as  he  usually  wore 
moccasins  and  white  canvas  trousers,  his  unique  appear- 
ance appealed  to  the  red  men  and  he  could  make  almost 
any  sort  of  a  potlatch  bargain  with  them,  to  the  satisfac- 
tion, if  not  profit,  of  both  parties  concerned. 

Of  the  men  who  were  important  factors  in  the  Cove 
life  forty-five  years  ago  all  have  passed  into  the  land 
of  shadows  except  M.  B.  Rees,  Randall  Robinson,  Otho 
Eckersley,  E.  P.  McDaniels  and  one  or  two  others.  That 
beautiful  little  locality,  about  a  township  in  area,  nestling 
upon  the  foothills  which  slope  toward  La  Grande  and 
the  Grand  Ronde  valley  proper,  has  changed,  not  only 
in  the  personnel  of  its  people  but  in  its  business  life.  It 
was  formerly  devoted  exclusively  to  the  production  of 
wheat,  barley,  hay  and  stock,  but  in  later  years  intensified 
farming  has  been  adopted,  and  the  farms  of  two  hun- 
dred acres  have  been,  with  a  few  exceptions,  divided 
into  small  orchards  and  gardens.  Cherries  and  apples 
are  made  a  specialty  and  are  grown  to  a  marvelous  state 
of  perfection. 

A  thousand  recollections,  m.ostly  very  pleasant,  cluster 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  295 

around  the  place  for  me,  and  the  mention  of  its  name 
never  fails  to  produce  a  reverie  that  recalls  the  experi- 
ences attending  the  transition  of  boyhood  into  manhood 
— the  "heyday  of  youth"  into  the  more  serious  aspects 
of  life,  with  its  growing  responsibilities — and  the  people, 
scattered  everywhere,  who  were  my  associates  in  the 
days  of  "auld  lang  syne." 


CHAPTER   XL 

The  campaign  of  1876  will  take  its  place  in  the  history 
of  the  United  States  as  the  most  exciting,  in  the  nature 
of  its  final  settlement,  the  country  has  known,  to  date,  at 
least.  Only  by  the  narrowest  margin  was  an  actual 
revolution  averted,  which  good  fortune  was  due  to  the 
horse  sense  of  the  American  people,  to  their  real  capacity 
for  self-government.  Many  questions  arose  for  settle- 
ment which  had  never  been  presented  before,  for  which 
there  was  no  precedent,  and  indeed  for  which  there  was 
little  excuse.  Through  a  chance  circumstance  the  per- 
sonnel of  the  Electoral  Commission  was  Republican  in 
its  character,  and  all  its  findings  were  for  that  reason 
favorable  to  that  party.  If  the  Commission  had  been 
democratic  in  its  majority,  its  decisions  would  have  made 
Tilden  President  of  the  United  States,  for  they  voted 
as  solidly  as  did  the  Republicans — partisanship  ruling 
every  move  made  by  every  member.  When  possible, 
most  men  see  things  as  they  wish  them  to  look,  not  as 
they  really  are — unless  we  take  the  other  end  of  the  ques- 
tion and  say  that  the  aspect  of  most  objects  is  deter- 
mined largely  by  the  coloring  our  own  vision  furnishes. 
The  world  is  bright  to  one  man  and  dark  to  another  on 
the  same  day — though  the  world  really  presented  but 
one  picture  on  that  day! 

Very  few  Republicans  are  to-day  especially  proud  of 
the  way  Hayes  was  seated ;  yet  there  seemed  to  be  no 
other  action  possible  in  that  fearful  crisis  and  they  only 
did  what  the  Democrats  would  doubtless  have  done  had 
conditions  been  reversed.  And  it  is  said,  anyway,  that 
all's  well  that  ends  well. 

Locally,  in  Union  County,  in  1876,  the  Republicans 
nominated  John  W.  Norval  and  myself  for  Representa- 
tives in  the  Legislature  and  W.  J.   Snodgrass,  of  La 

296 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  297 

Grande,  for  State  Senator.  We  made  such  campaign 
as  we  could  in  the  face  of  adverse  conditions,  but  of 
course  came  out  of  the  contest  snowed  under  by  the 
normal  Democratic  majority  in  that  county,  at  that  time 
about  three  hundred.  Norval  continued  an  active  force 
in  Union  County  politics  until  1888,  when  he  was  suc- 
cessful in  his  campaign  for  a  seat  in  the  State  Senate, 
serving  through  the  sessions  of  1889  and  1891.  I  was 
a  member  of  the  House  from  Marion  County  in  both 
these  sessions,  the  latter  year  serving  as  Speaker.  So, 
"after  many  years."  my  old  comrade  and  I  met  in  the 
legislative  halls  and  exchanged  many  enjoyable  reminis- 
cences of  the  early  struggles  in  Union  County.  The 
time  arrived  when  Norval  had  some  assistance  in  his 
local  battles  and  his  reward  had  come.  His  home  was 
about  two  miles  from  the  railroad  station  on  the  line 
running  from  La  Grande  to  Elgin.  One  day,  not  long 
after  the  expiration  of  his  service  in  the  State  Senate, 
he  was  walking  across  country  to  catch  a  train,  and, 
hearing  it  in  the  distance,  ran  for  a  half  mile.  He 
reached  the  station  just  as  the  train  did,  but  was  so 
exhausted  that  he  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  lumber  and  died 
within  five  minutes  from  heart  failure. 

J.  W.  Norval  was  a  good  man,  endowed  with  many 
splendid  qualities,  and  his  name  will  always  be  recalled 
by  the  pioneers  of  Union  County  with  a  high  regard  for 
his  active  work  as  one  of  the  founders  of  that  little 
empire  which  nestles  so  cozily  in  the  heart  of  the  Blue 
Mountain  Range. 

After  the  campaign  of  1876  W.  J.  Snodgrass  was  sev- 
eral times  a  candidate  for  State  Senator  and  once  or 
twice  attempted  to  secure  the  Republican  nomination  for 
State  Treasurer,  but  never  was  successful.  For  several 
years  he  was  in  the  mercantile  business  in.  Okonogan, 
near  the  British  Columbia  line,  but  afterward  returned 
to  his  old  home  in  La  Grande,  where  he  died  in  the  year 
1910,  after  forty  years  of  great  activity  in  business  and 
political  life  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley. 


298  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

In  the  fall  of  1876  I  received  an  urgent  request  from 
my  mother's  people  in  the  Willamette  valley  to  return 
to  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  and  settle  down  among 
them.  To  look  the  situation  over,  I  went  to  that  section 
after  an  absence  of  ten  years,  and  notwithstanding  the 
ties  I  had  formed  in  the  Grand  Ronde  valley,  the  land 
of  my  birth  looked  good  to  me  and  I  decided  to  make 
the  change  the  ensuing  spring.  I  made  this  trip  imme- 
diately after  the  Presidential  election  in  November.  The 
Hayes-Tilden  difficulty  had  already  taken  form,  and  as 
we  met  the  stages  while  en  route  to  Umatilla  Landmg  I 
would  anxiously  inquire  of  the  driver  the  latest  news. 
At  Portland  I  stopped  at  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  then  the 
leading  hostelry  in  the  city — George  Coggan,  formerly 
of  La  Grande,  was  the  proprietor — and  I  recall  the 
excitement  prevailing  among  the  people  who  assembled 
to  learn  the  latest  news  from  Washington  and  to  discuss 
the  alarming  situation. 

I  returned  home  within  two  weeks,  sold  my  farm  and 
stock  in  the  Cove  and  vv^as  prepared  to  leave  for  the 
Waldo  Hills  when  the  weather  would  be  suitable  for  the 
trip  overland  in  the  spring. 

On  May  26,  1877,  therefore,  with  a  four-horse  team, 
a  wagon — with  four  wheels  and  a  "bed" — a  wife  and 
four  children,  one  a  step-daughter,  I  drove  from  the 
little  town  of  Cove,  never  to  make  it  my  home  again. 
On  June  16,  1870,  I  had  married  Mrs.  Nancy  Batte,  a 
young  widow  with  a  little  girl,  and  in  the  subsequent 
years  there  had  been  two  girls  and  a  boy  added  to  the 
family,  the  latter  being  but  four  months  old  at  the  time 
of  our  departure.  About  fifty  people  had  assembled  to 
"see  us  off."  It  was  a  sad  parting,  since  the  country 
was  yet  new  enough  to  have  retained  the  pioneer  spirit 
and  the  families  were  all  closely  bound  together  in  neigh- 
borly ties  such  as  are  never  formed  in  older  countries. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  day  in  May.  It  was  no  indi- 
cation of  weakness  that  there  were  few,  if  any,  dry  eyes 
as  the  last  handshakes  were  given  and  the  wheels  began 
to  roll  toward  western  Oregon.     It  was  an  ideal  day  in 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  299 

the  Cove.  The  morning  sun  had  come  across  the  old 
mountain  which  for  thousands  of  years  had  stood  guard 
over  the  changes  in  the  beautiful  valley,  and  birds  every- 
where were  giving  forth  their  silver  melody,  as  if  to 
mock  the  sadness  of  the  occasion ;  the  old  mill  was  grind- 
ing away  just  across  the  creek,  utterly  oblivious  of  the 
fact  that  it  had  been  my  first  bedroom  in  Grand  Ronde 
valley,  and  that  I  regretted  leaving  it  almost  as  much 
as  the  people  themselves.  Then  there  was  the  "Morri- 
son" church,  which  I  had  painted  as  my  contribution 
toward  its  building,  and  in  which,  as  an  ofiicer  in  the 
local  Grange,  I  had  partaken  of  many  of  its  famous 
"fourth  degree"  dinners,  attended  dances  long  to  be 
remembered  and  had  led  in  the  singing  at  occasional 
revivals  held  within  its  walls.  "Dad"  Russell  was  pound- 
ing away  on  the  anvil  in  his  shop,  but  he  had  already 
been  to  see  us ;  "Johnny"  Clark,  from  his  shop,  waved 
us  his  farewell;  "Uncle"  Cowles,  pipe  in  mouth,  had 
come  to  wish  us  well,  and  a  group  of  school-children — 
bless  their  hearts ! — whose  teacher  I  had  been  the  pre- 
vious winter  but  one,  came  along  on  their  way  to  school 
and  stopped  to  say  good-by. 

And  the  old  "Dixie"  schoolhouse — I  was  to  be  a 
frequenter  of  social  gatherings  within  its  walls  no  more. 
How  the  old  times  filled  my  memory  as  I  recalled  the 
debates  we  had  had  there ;  the  singing  schools,  with  the 
different  teachers  who  had  since  gone  their  way;  the 
writing  school,  where  L.  J.  Rouse  taught  us  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  "Spencerian"  system  and  other  "practical 
foolishness" ;  the  Union  Sunday-school,  with  its  summer 
Sunday  afternoons;  the  day-school  I  had  taught  there, 
and  how  the  children  had  "turned  me  out"  on  the  day 
before  Christmas,  at  the  noon  hour,  for  a  joke,  and  how 
I  returned  the  joke  by  going  home  and  leaving  them  to 
dismiss  the  school  as  they  saw  fit — all  these  incidents 
came  to  my  mind  while  bidding  farewell  to  the  place,  as 
well  as  to  the  people.  A  last  glance  at  "Dixie"  brought 
to  view,  in  imagination,  "Jack"  Gallagher  and  Lambert, 
two  of  the  earlier  teachers  there ;  Revs.  Koger,  Booth  and 


300  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Lewis,  three  Baptist  preachers  who  beheved  in  foreordi- 
nation  and  predestination,  and  earnestly  urged  all  sin- 
ners to  accept  their  faith  in  order  that  they  might  be 
saved — regardless  of  predestination,  it  is  presumed;  and 
"Uncle"  Dan  Elledge,  popular  and  jolly  Christian  min- 
ister who  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  preaching  the  Gospel 
"according  to  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints." 

Finally,  however,  we  were  on  our  way  and  that  night 
camped  on  the  Grand  Ronde  River,  a  few  miles  above 
Oro  Dell.  As  we  made  the  turn  around  a  point  which 
gave  us  the  last  glimpse  of  the  old  home,  I  stopped  the 
team  while  we  discussed  the  situation  with  saddened 
hearts,  and  wondered  if  we  should  ever  regret  the  move, 
when  we  should  ever  see  the  familiar  scenes  again,  if 
ever,  and  why  we  had  not  "let  well  enough  alone,"  any- 
way.     There  was  no  joy  in  the  camp  that  night. 

I  did  not  see  the  Cove  again  for  six  years,  when  I 
made  a  visit  there  and  had  a  wonderfully  cordial  recep- 
tion, remaining  two  weeks.  In  the  succeeding  years  I 
returned  nearly  every  year,  sometimes  oftener,  until  the 
death  of  my  father.  One  day  in  August,  1903,  while 
standing  in  the  doorway  of  my  home  in  Salem,  I  received 
a  long-distance  call  telling  me  of  his  sudden  illness  and 
that  he  had  requested  that  I  come  at  once.  As  I  had 
been  to  his  home  on  a  visit  two  months  before,  on  which 
occasion  he  and  I  had  spent  three  days  in  calling  at  the 
homes  of  many  of  the  old  friends,  this  request  of  his 
was  alarming.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  but  I  took 
a  train  for  Portland  and  reached  the  Cove  on  Sunday 
afternoon  at  one  o'clock,  only  to  find  my  father  uncon- 
scious. An  effort  was  made  to  arouse  him  by  the 
announcement  of  my  arrival,  but  without  success.  When 
asked  if  he  knew  what  was  said,  he  gave  a  slight  nod  of 
his  head,  but  no  other  evidence  of  consciousness.  He 
passed  away  within  an  hour,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five 
years. 

In  his  delirium  he  frequently  inquired  if  I  had  arrived 
— even  within  a  half-hour  after  the  message  was  sent — 
and  asked  that  I  should  write  his  obituary  notice  in  case 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  301 

he  should  not  survive  to  make  the  request  in  person. 
This  I  did,  publishing  it  in  the  Orcgonian,  giving  an  out- 
line of  his  Hfe,  as  detailed  in  a  preceding  chapter,  and 
closing  with  these  two  paragraphs : 

In  1866,  Union  County  having  been  recently  estab- 
lished, he  served  for  a  few  months  as  deputy  sheriff, 
and,  being  attracted  by  the  marvelous  beauty  of  the 
Grand  Ronde  valley,  decided  to  locate  there  perma- 
nently and  again  engage  in  horticultural  pursuits.  He 
carried  his  decision  into  effect  and  for  thirty-seven  and 
one-half  years,  exactly  half  his  lifetime,  he  cultivated 
one  of  the  most  successful  and  best-kept  fruit  farms  in 
eastern  Oregon.  He  was  actively  in  the  harness  when 
the  summons  came  announcing  that  his  work  was  done. 
He  lived  a  very  active  life  and  died  with  the  highest 
respect  of  everybody. 

A  short  time  before  his  demise,  when  asked  if  he 
wanted  anything,  he  replied,  "Only  death,"  and  when 
asked  if  he  was  ready  to  die,  he  said  he  had  always 
been  ready.  Just  before  losing  consciousness  for  the 
last  time  he  asked  if  I  had  arrived,  and  his  last  earthly 
request  was  that  I  should  write  his  obituary.  This  I 
have  done,  lovingly  as  a  son,  and  on  these  closing  lines 
my  pen  lingers,  as,  sitting  under  the  whispering  pines, 
just  above  the  old  home,  whose  branches  sheltered  me 
so  many  times  during  my  boyhood  days,  and  con- 
fronted on  every  hand  by  the  countless  familiar  ob- 
jects which  were  my  companions  and  his  during  the 
struggles  of  my  early  manhood,  I  bid  my  father  good- 
by  until  we  meet  in  that  "house  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal   in  the  heavens." 

I  may  be  pardoned  for  adding  that  my  father  and  I 
were  more  like  two  brothers  than  parent  and  child,  and 
many  people  not  intimately  acquainted  with  us  or  the 
family  supposed  we  were  brothers.  My  first  wife  was 
a  younger  sister  to  his  second  wife,  thus  making  us 
brothers-in-law,  and  the  children  of  the  two  sisters,  as 
well  as  their  parents,  were  frequently  puzzled  to  figure 
out    the   precise    relationship    which    they    bore   to   one 


302  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

another.  My  father  was  the  uncle  to  my  children,  as  well 
as  their  grandfather,  and  their  aunt,  who  was  my  step- 
mother, was  their  grandmother!  Also,  my  wife  was  not 
only  the  aunt  of  my  father's  children — by  his  second 
wife — but  was  their  sister-in-law,  as  well.  My  little  step- 
daughter came  nearer  than  any  other  member  of  either 
family  to  a  plain  title,  and  even  she  was  the  neice  of  her 
sister's  grandfather  and  her  mother  was  her  grand- 
mother's sister!  Yet  the  two  families  "got  along" 
splendidly ! 

My  father  was  one  of  the  jolliest  of  men,  counted  the 
best  of  companions  and  his  home  was  always  a  popular 
resort,  even  for  young  people,  or  perhaps  I  should  say 
especially  for  young  people.  I  have  been  to  the  Cove  but 
once  since  his  death,  as  the  old  place  seems  not  the  same 
without  him.  His  remains  are  resting  in  the  cemetery  on 
the  hillside  overlooking  the  beautiful  little  section  which 
he  chose  for  himself  in  middle  life,  by  the  side  of  the  wife 
who  preceded  him  by  two  years. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

No  doubt  most  men,  in  looking  back  over  their  varied 
experiences,  can  select  a  few  events  which  appear  to 
mark  distinctly  the  dividing  line  between  what  might 
properly  be  called  epochs  in  their  lives.  Some  unfore- 
seen happening  will  often  serve  to  change  the  entire 
trend  of  one's  life  and  its  purposes — if  it  had  any. 

This  I  can  truly  say  of  my  removal  from  eastern 
Oregon  to  my  old  home  in  the  Willamette  valley  in  1877. 
My  mother's  uncle  and  his  wife  being  well  advanced  in 
years  and  childless,  had  made  me  an  offer,  in  land,  to 
come  and  live  near  them  during  the  remainder  of  their 
lives  and  look  after  them  in  their  declining  years.  This, 
together  with  my  attachment  to  the  Willamette  valley, 
caused  me  to  accept  the  proposition  and,  in  a  sense,  to 
begin  a  new  life  along  dififerent  lines  and  amid  strange 
surroundings. 

We  made  the  trip  from  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  to 
Waldo  Hills  overland,  with  the  exception  of  the  distance 
between  The  Dalles  and  Portland,  which  was  covered  by 
a  Columbia  River  steamer.  I  was  just  past  twenty-six 
years  of  age,  had  a  family  of  a  wife  and  four  children, 
and  was  bound  for  a  land  which  none  of  them  had  ever 
seen  and  where  my  own  success  was  yet  to  be  deter- 
mined. I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  was  filled  with  a 
mixed  feeling  of  concern,  regret,  hope,  courage  and  a 
goodly  supply  of  optimism.  The  second  day  from  "civili- 
zation" we  w^ere  compelled  to  remain  four  days  in  the 
heart  of  the  Blue  Mountains  on  account  of  a  most  severe 
rain-storm  and  the  illness  of  my  wife,  being  obliged  to 
send  to  La  Grande  for  medicine  by  the  stage-drivers  who 
passed  twice  a  day.  The  sixth  day  we  reached  Pendleton 
and  camped  in  the  suburbs  of  that  little  city.  The  next 
morning  I  discovered  that  three  of  my  four  horses  were 

303 


304  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

missing.  They  had  sHpped  their  hobbles  in  some  way 
and  had  of  course  taken  the  back  track  for  the  Grand 
Ronde  valley.  My  wife  had  been  very  sick  all  the  pre- 
vious night  and  the  baby,  four  months  old,  had  cried 
unceasingly  from  dark  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
which  necessitated  my  holding  him,  walking  the  floor  of 
the  tent  and  occasionally  endeavoring  to  lull  him  to 
sleep  by  rocking  him  in  a  low  four-posted,  rawhide-bot- 
tom chair.  Between  acts,  or  rather  during  acts,  I  admin- 
istered as  best  I  could  to  the  wants  of  his  suffering 
mother.  A  little  while  before  daylight,  everything  else 
having  failed  to  quiet  the  child,  she  suggested  that  maybe 
he  was  thirsty.  During  the  six  preceding  hours  I  had 
given  him  every  kind  of  medicine  the  two  druggists  in 
the  town  had  ever  heard  of  as  being  good  for  infantile 
complaints,  but  without  results — at  least  desirable  results. 

The  thought  was  absolutely  new  to  me,  but  acting 
upon  the  suggestion  I  procured  a  tin-cup  of  water  and 
offered  it  to  the  little  fellow.  Upon  his  first  sight  of  it 
he  made  such  a  frantic  grab  for  its  contents  that  it  was 
worth  a  small  fortune  to  see  him.  He  drank  it  all  and 
wanted  more ;  but  this  was  withheld.  Within  less  than 
five  minutes  he  was  in  a  deep  sleep  which  lasted  for  full 
four  hours. 

Some  men  are  so  blasted  stupid,  anywa)^ — ever  notice 
it? 

The  next  morning  my  wife  was  very  ill  and  could  eat 
nothing  we  had  in  our  stores ;  she  only  wanted  some 
potatoes.  So  I  went  down  on  Main  Street  and  asked  the 
proprietor  of  the  only  grocery  store  if  he  had  any.  He 
replied  that  he  had  not.  I  at  once  pointed  out  to  him  a 
sack  standing  in  front  of  the  store,  but  he  said  they  were 
not  for  sale.  After  I  had  explained  the  situation  to  him, 
however,  he  gave  me  permission  to  take  all  the  potatoes 
I  wanted — even  the  entire  sack.  I  took  a  dozen  and 
offered  him  the  price  of  them,  but  he  replied  that  he  had 
none  for  sale !  His  name  was  Lot  Livermore,  and  he  is 
one  of  the  best-known  pioneers  of  Umatilla  County 
to-day.     He  has  altogether  served  twenty  years  as  post- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  305 

master  of  Pendleton  and  is  as  "white"  a  man  as  lives  in 
the  State  of  Oregon. 

After  breakfast  I  saddled  the  only  horse  which  had 
not  played  "hookey,"  engaged  a  woman  who  lived  close 
by  to  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  family,  and  started  for 
the  Grand  Ronde  valley,  not  expecting  to  find  the  truant 
horses  before  reaching  their  old  home,  ninety  miles  away. 
But  good  luck  was  mine,  for  before  traveling  ten 
miles  I  met  some  of  my  old  neighbors  on  their  way  to 
the  "Landing"  for  freight.  They  had  seen  my  horses, 
knew  them,  guessed  the  situation  and  were  leading  them 
behind  their  wagons.  It  was  a  most  cheering  sight  when 
I  recognized  my  three  runaways  reluctantly  retracing 
their  steps,  for  it  was  the  only  really  encouraging  inci- 
dent that  had  happened  since  the  beginning  of  the  trip. 

The  remainder  of  this  journey  was  without  special 
interest.  The  route,  much  of  the  way,  was  along  the 
identical  road  made  by  the  immigrants  who  created  the 
"Oregon  trail"  in  the  early  '40's  and  some  of  the  camp- 
ing places  were  the  same  as  those  used  by  my  parents 
just  thirty  years  before.  To  this  day  many  sections  of 
the  Oregon  trail  through  eastern  Oregon  are  used  by  the 
people,  and  the  light  soil,  blown  by  the  winds  of  seventy 
years,  has  drifted  away,  leaving  two  parallel  trenches 
with  a  ridge  between  so  high  that  the  axles  of  the  wagons 
often  drag  on  its  surface.  Indeed,  in  some  places,  as 
you  descend  the  hillsides  into  the  gulches,  the  alkali  soil 
has  been  blown  out  of  the  old  road  until  it  is  only  usable 
by  horsemen,  whose  heads  are  often  below  the  surface 
of  the  surrounding  country. 

In  1877  the  boundless  advantages  of  the  bunch  grass 
range  of  eastern  Oregon  were  just  beginning  to  be  appre- 
ciated and  the  first  large  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  were 
commencing  to  make  their  mark  on  the  almost  unlimited 
stretches  of  this  succulent  grass.  I  remember  that  in 
traveling  from  Pendleton  to  Heppner,  a  distance  of  some 
sixty  miles,  we  drove  through  extensive  sections  of 
grass  which  stood  two  feet  high,  and  not  a  head  of  stock 
had  molested  it  since  it  began  its  growth  in  the  early 


3o6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

spring.  As  we  approached  the  streams,  however,  which 
are  some  ten  miles  apart,  there  were  evidences  of  stock 
here  and  there ;  the  grass  began  to  be  shorter,  and  as  we 
neared  the  creeks  there  was  literally  none  at  all.  The 
fact  was  that  my  horses  were  compelled  to  do  without 
grass  as  we  passed  through  this  part  of  the  magnificent 
eastern  Oregon  range,  except  as  we  made  some  dry 
camps  at  the  noon  hour. 

Since  then  the  immense  herds  of  cattle,  horses  and 
sheep  which  have  made  large  fortunes  for  thousands  of 
men  have  practically  exterminated  the  bunch  grass,  which 
for  succulent  qualities  and  its  great  vitality  on  dry  up- 
lands has  not  been  equalled  by  any  other  kind  of  forage 
plant,  native  or  imported.  Indeed,  there  are  many  people 
who  believe  the  transformation  of  these  boundless  ranges 
into  farm  lands  devoted  to  the  production  of  grain  has 
been  an  industrial  mistake,  since  much  of  it  is,  of  neces- 
sity, subject  to  dry  seasons  and  the  output  often  unsatis- 
factory in  consequence.  When  given  a  rest  from  pas- 
turage for  two  years  the  bunch  grass  will  reappear, 
strange  as  it  may  seem.  Traveling  in  eastern  Oregon, 
one  frequently  sees  a  fence  running  over  a  high  moun- 
tain, on  one  side  of  which  the  grass,  newly  grown — or, 
it  may  be,  drying  up  in  the  early  fall — shows  plainly  for 
twenty  miles  away,  while  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
fence,  where  the  land  has  been  closely  pastured,  the  hills 
are  perfectly  bare  and  as  brown  as  a  city  street. 

Many  an  eastern  Oregon  grain-raiser  of  to-day  often 
sits  on  the  front  porch  of  his  home  and  sighs  for  the 
halcyon  days  of  King  Bunch  Grass.  Much  of  that 
country,  however,  is  splendidly  adapted  to  the  produc- 
tion of  grain  of  all  kinds,  and  without  doubt  the  section 
in  Umatilla  County,  consisting  of  twenty  miles  square 
with  Athena  as  a  probable  center,  has  a  record  as  the 
best  wheat  nroducing  land  in  the  world. 

Incidentally,  though  a  digression,  it  will  be  interest- 
ing to  describe  briefly  the  process  of  harvesting  wheat 
in  this  section.     While  living  in  Pendleton,  during  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  307 

threshing  season  in  1907  George  Perringer,  one  of  the 
"wheat  kings"  of  Umatilla  County,  invited  me  one  day 
to  accompany  him  to  his  farm,  twenty  miles  away — in 
his  automobile.  Many  of  the  big  farmers  of  Umatilla 
County  live  in  Pendleton  and  occupy  some  of  the  finest 
homes  there. 

Perringer  had  about  three  thousand  acres  of  wheat 
that  year  and  there  were  three  "combined  harvesters"' 
working  at  once.  Two  of  them  had  thirty  horses  each 
furnishing  the  motive  power,  while  the  third  was  drawn 
by  a  steam  engine  of  one  hundred  and  ten  horse-power. 
To  this  we  drove  in  our  machine  and  I  was  invited  to 
ride  once  around  a  five-hundred-acre  field  which  it  was 
transforming  from  standing  grain  that  averaged  fifty 
bushels  to  the  acre  into  the  sacked  product. 

A  "combined  harvester"  is,  as  its  name  implies,  a  huge 
header  with  a  threshing  machine  attachment.  The  "ele- 
vator" dumps  the  wheat  directly  into  the  cylinder  of 
the  thresher,  and  a  platform  carries  three  men.  One  of 
these  is  the  sacker ;  the  other  two  sew  the  sacks  and  pile 
them  on  a  broad  plank  which,  when  it  receives  a  suffi- 
cient weight — about  thirty  bushels — automatically  up- 
tilts,  slides  the  sacks  off  in  a  pile,  and  adjusts  itself  imme- 
diately to  receive  the  next  sack. 

The  sickle  of  this  machine  was  twenty-four  feet  long 
and  the  amount  of  headed  wheat  it  gathered  in  and 
dumped  into  the  cylinder  was  almost  appalling — so  vora- 
cious and  monsterlike  did  the  process  appear.  The  man 
who  handled  the  sacked  wheat  had  a  job  that  kept  him 
"on  the  jump,"  while  the  two  men  who  were  sewing 
sacks  had  not  an  idle  moment. 

The  drive-wheels  of  the  engine  were  eight  feet  in 
height,  with  a  tire  twenty-four  inches  in  width.  Neces- 
sarily, there  is  more  waste  in  harvesting  with  this  method 
than  with  the  ordinary  binders,  but  where  the  business 
is  pursued  on  such  a  gigantic  scale  as  in  Umatilla  County 
and  other  sections  of  eastern  Oregon  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  gather  in  the  crops  without  the  combined  har- 
vester. 


3o8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Perringer  sold  a  part  of  his  crop  the  following  fall  to 
Balfour.  Guthrie  &  Co.,  of  Portland,  and  received  his 
pay  in  one  check  for  $72,000,  a  fac-simile  of  which  was 
printed  in  the  Portland  papers— and  there  are  several 
other  Umatilla  farmers  who  are  in  Perringer's  class.  In 
that  year  the  yield  of  wheat  in  that  county  was  estnnated 
at  six  millions  of  bushels. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

We  arrived  at  the  home  of  Grandfather  Eoff,  whose 
farm- — on  which  I  was  born — of  eight  hundred  acres  was 
situated  both  in  the  Waldo  Hills  and  on  Howell  Prairie 
on  June  8.  I  took  possession  of  my  farm  of  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty  acres  adjoining  this  on  the  first  of  the 
succeeding  October,  and  for  the  next  twenty  years  was 
engaged  solely  in  the  endless  work  which  such  a  farm — 
or,  indeed,  any  farm — entails.  I  had  no  rest  from  cease- 
less toil  except  during  the  four  terms  I  served  in  the 
State  Legislature,  of  forty  days  each,  and  the  time  de- 
voted to  public  speaking  in  various  parts  of  the  State 
between  1892  and  1898. 

I  can  truthfully  say  that  for  a  long  time  I  had  no 
clearly  defined  ambition  to  occupy  public  positions.  It 
was  developed  as  the  result  of  circumstances  which 
T  had  no  hand  in  shaping.  Early  in  life  I  found  myself 
possessed  of  a  liking  for  newspaper  writing,  for  the 
pleasure  I  found  in  controversies  involving  the  discussion 
of  public  questions;  and  as  they  usually  appeared  to  be 
welcomed  by  the  papers  and  appreciated  by  their  readers, 
I  rather  cultivated  the  tendency  during  my  farm  life. 
Indeed.  I  found  in  it  the  only  diversion  from  really  hard 
work,  and  without  some  mental  rest  or  occupation  to 
vary  the  daily  grind  of  farm  labor,  the  life  one  leads 
there  is  not  so  different  from  that  of  the  horses  one  drives 
every  day  and  for  whose  physical  necessities  he  pro- 
vides. The  man  whose  occupation  requires  all  his  day- 
light hours  and  whose  duties  call  for  the  constant  bend- 
ing of  the  back,  the  crooking  of  the  elbows  and  straining 
of  the  arms,  really  leads  a  life  which  differs  so  little 
outwardly  from  that  of  the  work-mule  that  the  distinc- 
tion is  hardly  worth  considering.  And  this  is  not  an 
unfaithful  picture  of  the  lives  of  hundreds  of  thousands 

309 


310  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  farmers  throughout  even  these  United  States,  not  to 
mention  those  less  favorably  situated  in  other  parts  of 
the  world. 

So,  as  I  have  intimated,  I  found  some  relaxation  after 
the  daily  routine — hauling  rails,  building  fences,  splitting 
wood  in  the  timber,  plowing,  sowing  grain,  harvesting  it, 
haying,  clearing  land,  digging  oak  "grubs"  and  postholes, 
making  gardens,  hauling  and  spreading  manure,  culti- 
vating potato  fields,  pruning  orchards,  killing  hogs  and 
kindred  stunts — in  spending  my  evenings  writing  for  the 
newspapers.  Often,  while  plowing,  I  have  thought  out 
the  substance  of  an  article  for  publication  and,  having 
constructed  and  reconstructed  a  sentence  until  I  was 
satisfied  with  its  arrangement,  have  stopped  the  team 
and,  sitting  on  the  plow  beam,  jotted  it  down  on  a  paper 
which  I  carried  with  me  for  that  purpose.  This  process 
would  be  repeated  many  times,  then  late  some  evening, 
while  the  family  slept,  I  would  devote  two  or  three  hours 
to  the  actual  writing  of  the  letter. 

The  first  five  years  I  lived  on  the  Waldo  Hills  farm 
there  was  no  post-office  nearer  than  Salem,  eight  miles 
away,  and  it  was  the  custom  to  watch  for  some  neighbor 
passing  along  the  road  on  his  way  to  that  town  and  hail 
him  with  a  request  to  bring  out  our  mail.  I  had  a  neigh- 
bor whose  family  lived  in  Salem,  where  his  children 
were  enjoying  the  advantages  of  better  schooling,  and  he 
went  each  Saturday  to  spend  Sunday  with  them,  return- 
ing to  the  farm  late  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day.  He 
regularly  brought  the  mail  for  every  family  living  along 
the  road,  and  "Lew"  Griffith's  return  home  was  watched 
for  eagerly  on  every  Sunday  afternoon  for  a  number  of 
years.  At  this  writing  he  still  lives  on  his  large  farm  at 
the  age  of  eighty-three  years,  but  has  been  helpless  by 
reason  of  a  paralytic  stroke  for  the  past  ten  years. 
Through  it  all,  however,  he  has  shown  remarkable 
patience  and  fortitude  and  has  the  sympathy  of  the 
unusually  large  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintances  among 
whom  he  has  lived  for  more  than  sixty  years. 

In  about  1882,  however,  what  was  known  as  the  "nar- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  311 

row  gauge"  railroad  was  built  from  Woodburn,  on  the 
main  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific  on  French  Prairie,  to 
Springfield,  in  Lane  County,  passing  through  the  Waldo 
Hills  within  two  miles  of  my  farm.  A  station  was  built 
at  what  had  been  known  as  "Stipp's  schoolhouse"  since 
my  earliest  recollection.  It  was  called  Macleay,  after 
Donald  Macleay,  of  Portland,  who  was  prominently 
connected  with  the  "Scotch  Company"  which  gave  the 
necessary  financial  backing  to  the  railroad  enterprise. 
Afterward,  Mr.  Macleay  donated  a  large  sum  toward 
the  erection  of  a  fine  schoolhouse  for  the  town,  named 
in  his  honor,  with  which,  and  an  additional  sum  sup- 
plied by  the  people  of  that  school  district,  was  erected  an 
edifice  which  for  many  years  was  the  finest  in  the  State 
outside  the  incorporated  towns. 

And  with  this  innovation  passed  a  landmark  which 
holds  a  cherished  place  in  the  memory  of  hundreds  of 
people  now  scattered  all  over  the  Pacific  Coast;  for 
"Stipp's  schoolhouse"  was  known  far  and  near  in  the 
days  when  all  the  people  of  Oregon  were  yet  pioneers. 
Elder  John  Stipp  owned  a  farm  near  by  and  was  a 
"Hard  Shell"  Baptist  of  the  most  impervious  kind — 
most  probably  he  belonged  to  the  family  of  Noah — 
and  his  sermons  were  as  long  in  their  delivery  as  they 
were  dull  and  obscure.  But  this  latter  characteristic  in 
no  wise  diminished  the  appreciation  of  his  hearers  of  his 
theological  pronunciamentoes,  for  he  was  "called  of  God" 
and  the  finite  mind  was  not  expected  to  be  able  to  com- 
prehend the  revelations  of  the  Infinite.  The  more  in- 
coherent the  deliveries  of  Elder  Stipp,  the  greater  the  evi- 
dence of  their  divine  origin  and  the  resultant  awe  which 
they  produced.  His  portrayal  of  foreordination  and 
predestination,  interwoven  with  official  assurance  that 
infants  a  span  long  are  burnt  through  all  eternity  in 
a  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone  because  they  are  not  mem- 
bers of  the  "elect,"  was  accepted  without  question  by 
most  of  his  congregation,  and  for  many  years  he  was 
regarded  as  one  of  the  ablest  preachers  in  his  denomina- 
tion in  all  that  region. 


312  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Soon  after  my  return  to  the  Waldo  Hills  in  1877 
Elder  Stipp,  who  had  then  lived  in  Clackamas  County 
for  several  years,  visited  his  old  neighborhood  and 
preached  a  sermon  one  Sunday  morning  in  the  school- 
house  that  had  just  replaced  the  one  named  after  him, 
erected  in  1850,  and  his  congregation  included  all  the 
old-timers  within  a  radius  of  ten  miles.  All  greeted  the 
grizzled  warrior  in  the  army  of  the  Lord  with  that  warmth 
which  is  characteristic  of  the  pioneers,  and  the  old  man, 
then  showing  plainly  the  ravages  of  cruel  Time,  held  his 
audience  for  two  hours  while  he  delved  into  the 
mysteries  of  revelation  and  demonstrated  that  the 
second  coming  of  Christ  w-as  then  overdue,  that  it  is 
inconceivable  how  even  the  mercy  of  God  can  save  such 
sinners  as  the  best  of  us  are.  that,  in  effect,  a  smile 
under  any  circumstances  is  an  evidence  of  frivolity  and 
that  an  exhibition  of  mirth  of  any  character  indicates 
a  lack  of  that  seriousness  which  should  mark  the  de- 
portment of  those  who  expect  ultimately  to  "vie  around 
the  eternal  Throne,"  etc. 

On  this  occasion  Elder  Stipp's  delivery  had  taken  on 
an  additional  degree  of  "hesitation,"  compared  with 
which  his  former  style  was  a  frisky  gallop  among  his 
confused  verbs  and  nouns.  He  always  began  his  sen- 
tences in  a  modulated  tone,  with  a  gradual  rise  until 
a  satisfactory  pitch  had  been  reached,  when  there  was 
a  partial  lessening  of  force  and  a  lowering  of  tone  for 
a  few  words ;  but  the  rising  scale  was  soon  resumed  and 
followed  until  his  whole  effort  was  centered  on  some 
particular  word  near  the  end,  when  there  was  a  partial 
verbal  collapse  which  became  complete  when  the  period 
was  reached.  There  was  a  rhythm  permeating  his  tones 
after  he  had  talked  for  fifteen  minutes,  with  a  sliding 
scale  of  diminuendoes  and  crescendoes  as  graceful  and 
regular  as  a  w^ell-rendered  modern  two-step,  and  if  one 
was  not  careful,  he  would  find  himself  involuntarily 
keeping  time  to  these  variations  with  a  swaying  of  the 
head  and  body.  Sometimes  half  the  congregation  were 
so  affected.     He  had  practiced  this  method  of  delivery 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  313 

for  so  long  that  it  had  become  an  art,  and  where  the 
matter  of  his  sermon  did  not  convert,  the  melody  of  the 
musical  scale  was  perfectly  irresistible.  Now  you  could 
detect  a  familiar  bar  in  "Nearer  My  God  to  Thee"  for 
a  dozen  words,  as  he  described  the  gold  which  is  used 
in  paving  the  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem;  a  minute 
later  a  section  of  "On  Jordan's  Stormy  Banks"  would 
be  recognized  for  an  instant,  as  it  was  called  into  service 
to  emphasize  the  horrors  of  perdition — and  was  gone 
before  there  was  time  for  a  salutation! 

But  Elder  Stipp,  good  old  soul,  has  passed  away,  as 
has  the  old  schoolhouse,  his  style  of  preaching,  and,  for 
the  most  part,  the  creed  he  propounded  for  a  full  half- 
century  to  those  who  sincerely  thought  he  was  "contend- 
ing for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints." 

In  following  this  reminiscent  vein,  however,  I  have 
drifted  away  from  the  consideration  of  the  fact  that 
with  the  building  of  the  "narrow  gauge"  railroad  a  post- 
office  was  established  at  Macleay,  and  with  it  came  a 
daily  mail  service.  This  was,  of  course,  a  marked  im- 
provement, though  it  necessitated  a  trip  of  two  miles 
each  way  on  the  part  of  some  member  of  the  family. 
In  our  case  we  usually  decided  at  the  noon  meal  which 
one  should  make  the  trip  for  the  mail  during  the  after- 
noon, for  by  this  time  many  of  us  felt  obliged  to  take 
a  daily  paper  and  the  mail  must  be  obtained  every  day. 
This  condition  obtained  during  the  other  fifteen  years 
of  my  residence  on  the  farm,  and  I  reckon  that,  between 
all  the  members  of  my  family,  in  that  time  we  traveled 
some  thousands  of  miles  on  foot — for  there  was  a  deep 
canyon  to  cross  and  by  the  road  the  distance  would  have 
been  fully  doubled. 

Within  a  year  after  I  moved  to  Salem,  however,  the 
rural  free  delivery  system  was  inaugurated  and  the  mail 
was  delivered  at  the  farm  every  day  before  noon.  At 
the  same  time  a  telephone  line  was  erected  through  that 
neighborhood,  and  so  two  of  the  rural  inconveniences 
with  which  I  wrestled  for  tw^enty  years,  were  removed. 

But,  Mr.   Reader,  have  you  observed  how  untrue  is 


314  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  assumption  that  the  introduction  of  the  rural  mail 
delivery  and  the  telephone  has  increased  the  sociability 
in  farming  communities?  This  is  a  common  statement 
in  the  average  newspaper — that  the  isolation  which  has 
heretofore  made  country  life  so  unpleasant  has  been 
removed  by  these  two  agencies.  But  quite  the  reverse 
is  true. 

One  day  in  1902  I  rode  from  Salem  to  my  farm  on 
a  bicycle,  and  at  the  dinner  table  asked  Simeral  if  Tom 
Jones  was  showing  any  more  gray  hairs  than  when  I 
had  seen  him  last  a  few  months  before.  He  replied  that 
he  hadn't  seen  him  for  two  months,  he  guessed. 

"Haven't  seen  him  for  two  months?"  I  gasped. 
"Why,  have  you  had  a  falling  out?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  laughingly  answered,  "but  you  know 
we  have  'phones  now  and  when  I  want  to  talk  to  him 
I  simply  'call  him  up,'  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it.  He 
is  well,  though,  for  I  was  talking  to  him  this  morning 
about  whether  the  gourds  are  bad  in  his  wheat  this 
summer." 

Tom  Jones  was  my  nearest  neighbor,  and  during  the 
twenty  years  I  lived  on  the  farm  there  was  rarely  a 
day  that  I  did  not  see  him,  either  at  his  home  or  mine. 

And  I  discovered  that  Simeral  had  not  been  to 
Macleay  for  a  month.  He  had  no  business  there,  as 
his  mail  was  delivered  at  the  house,  and  not  while  he 
waited,  either.  He  had  seen  none  of  the  neighbors  in 
that  direction  since  the  Christmas  entertainment,  six 
months  before,  but  the  amount  of  information  every- 
body possessed  about  everybody  else  was  astonishing. 
Every  family  within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  was  on  a 
"party  line,"  and  when  two  people  were  indulging  in 
local  gossip  it  was  usual  for  every  family  between  Salem 
and  Silver  Creek  Falls  and  from  Silverton  to  Sublimity, 
to  have  a  receiver  down — learning  the  latest.  This  is 
the  rule,  and  is  in  part  justified  by  the  fact  that  the 
ordinary  conversation  in  the  country  lasts  from  one  to 
two  hours,  so,  if  one  wants  to  be  "next"  on  the  line,  he 
must  needs  be  in  position  to  start  his  claim  at  the  drop 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  315 

of  the  hat.  And  even  then  he  is  frequently  left  in  the 
assertion  of  his  right! 

One  day,  merely  as  an  experiment,  a  Macleay  man 
called  up  a  neighbor,  according  to  a  previous  under- 
standing, and  told  him  that  a  well-known  citizen  of  the 
locality  had  sustained  a  dislocated  knee  joint  through  an 
accident  occasioned  by  a  runaway  team,  though  nothing 
of  the  kind  had  happened.  Within  the  next  hour  the 
'phone  at  the  home  of  the  supposedly  injured  man  was 
kept  red-hot  by  calls  from  every  part  of  eastern  Marion 
County  inquiring  as  to  the  exact  extent  of  his  hurt! 

And  when  everybody  was  compelled  to  go  to  Macleay 
for  his  mail,  one  would  usually  find  from  ten  to  twenty 
men  there  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  train  from 
Portland  and  the  stage  from  Salem.  At  such  times 
there  was  an  enjoyable  hour  or  two  of  sociability  which 
permitted  the  discussion  of  current  topics,  local.  State 
and  national,  religious,  political  and  agricultural.  But 
there  is  nothing  of  the  sort  now.  There  is  nothing  to 
go  to  Macleay  for!  Uncle  Sam  brings  your  mail  to 
the  door  free  of  charge,  and  if  you  desire  to  talk  to 
a  man  living  there  you  can  take  down  your  receiver — 
if  some  other  fellow  has  not  already  brought  his  own 
into  use — and  have  it  out  with  him,  while  in  the  former 
days  you  would  be  getting  ready  to  saddle  your  horse 
for  a  half-day's   journey. 

All  of  which  goes  to  show  that  in  these  days  things 
are  so  handy  that  you  can  put  in  all  your  waking  hours 
at  work,  while  your  neighbors  are  doing  the  same.  Did 
you  ask  if  I  regret  the  change?  Oh,  no,  indeed,  I  was 
merely  stating  a  fact.  Let  the  improvements  come,  and 
when  the  airships  are  perfected  we  can  sail  away  to 
the  blue  Mediterranean  for  a  little  vacation,  giving  out 
no  information  as  to  the  time  of  our  departure  or  our 
return — if,  indeed,  we  do  return. 


CHAPTER  XXLIII 

When  the  State  campaign  of  1880  opened  in  the 
spring  of  that  year  I  was  nominated  by  the  Repubhcans 
of  Marion  County  as  a  candidate  for  the  lower  house 
in  the  Legislature.  Under  the  apportionment  then 
existing  that  county  was  allowed  six  members  and  I 
was  the  youngest  of  the  delegation.  I  had  been  em- 
ploying the  three  years  preceding  in  writing  for  the 
papers  at  somewhat  regular  intervals  and  was  quite  well 
known  locally,  so,  when  the  time  came  for  selecting 
available  material  for  the  Legislature  I  succumbed  to 
the  "solicitation  of  my  many  friends"  and  "permitted  the 
use  of  my  name"  in  the  county  convention.  The  slate 
went  through  without  much  damage  and  after  a  joint 
canvass  of  the  county  with  the  Democratic  candidates 
the  entire  Republican  ticket  was  elected — since  the 
cotinty  was  under  the  control  of  that  party  by  at  least 
six  hundred  majority. 

In  those  days  the  sessions  of  the  Legislature  were 
held  in  September,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  State 
Constitution,  though  it  was  permissible  to  change  the 
date  by  law,  which  has  since  been  done.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  September  13,  I  went  to  Salem  to  begin  my 
legislative  experience.  Upon  arriving  at  the  State  House 
I  found  that  the  Republican  caucus  for  the  selection  of 
officers  was  already  at  work.  I  was  directed  to  the  com- 
mittee room  where  this  important  function  was  being 
attended  to  and  upon  timidly  rapping  at  the  door  was 
greeted  by  a  cheery  looking  man  with  hair  and  full 
beard  which  were  even  then  snowy  white.  Upon  my 
giving  my  name,  with  the  information  that  I  was  a 
House  member  from  Alarion  County,  he  greeted  me  with 
a  degree  of  cordiality  which  was  flattering  to  me,  indeed, 
for  a  moment:  for  I  assumed,  of  course,  that  my  fame 
had  preceded  me,  though,  up  to  that  moment  I  was  not 

316 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  317 

aware  that  I  had  any.  But  my  suppressed  pleasure  was 
short-lived,  for  the  man  at  once  informed  me  that  his 
name  was  Z,  F.  Moody,  that  he  was  a  member  from 
Wasco  County  and  that  he  was  a  candidate  before  the 
caucus  for  Speaker.  He  also  presented  me  with  a  card 
which  set  forth  the  same  fact  in  black  and  white. 

A  few  moments  later  the  vote  was  taken  for  Speaker 
and  Mr.  Moody  was  elected.  Of  course  I  voted  for 
him.  I  had  thus  taken  the  first  degree  in  practical 
politics  and  it  appeared  to  be  a  very  smooth  game — 
everything  was  pleasant! 

Mr.  Moody  was  elected  when  the  House  met  in  its 
first  business  session  and  he  made  a  model  officer — • 
always  fair,  always  courteous  and  always  "on  the  job." 

It  was  during  this  session  that  the  bill  was  passed 
which  finally  provided  for  the  care  of  the  insane  by 
the  State.  Until  then,  all  the  insane  and  feeble-minded 
persons  in  the  State  had  been  cared  for  by  private 
persons  under  the  contract  system — for  many  years  the 
work  having  been  done  by  Drs.  Hawthorne  and  Loryea, 
of  Portland — and  all  efforts  to  break  up  this  system  had 
been  unsuccessful.  The  contracts  had  been  let  at  ex- 
orbitant figures  and  the  contractors  were  amassing 
fortunes  from  a  business  which  it  was  held  the  State 
could  attend  to  as  well,  and  at  the  same  time  save  the 
people  thousands  of  dollars  annually. 

For  years  it  had  been  publicly  charged  that  a  "sack" 
was  always  provided  to  be  used  in  preventing  an  "asylum 
bill"  from  being  enacted,  and,  whether  true  or  not.  the 
attempt  had  at  each  session  come  to  naught.  It  was 
under  these  circumstances  that  the  Marion  County  dele- 
gation in  the  session  of  1880  decided  to  center  its  every 
effort  toward  the  passage  of  a  law  appropriating  money 
for  the  purpose  of  erecting  an  asylum  building  at  Salem. 
We  had  agreed  to  sacrifice  everything  else  in  the  matter 
of  new  legislation,  if  necessary,  in  return  for  assistance 
in  support  of  our  "pet  measure."  The  bill  was  prepared 
and  was  introduced  by  Hon.  Tilmon  Ford,  the  chairman 
of  our  delegation. 


3i8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

At  once,  for  the  reason  already  intimated,  our  asylum 
bill  was  the  target  for  all  kinds  of  attack.  Prominent 
men  were  in  the  lobby  pulling  all  the  strings  at  their 
command,  and  as  many  members  as  possible  were  "lined 
up"  in  opposition  to  the  proposed  interference  with  the 
established  order  of  things.  It  was  soon  discovered  that 
we  had  a  fight  on  our  hands  with  the  chances  against 
us;  but  we  also  soon  learned  that,  very  fortunately, 
Speaker  Moody  was  in  favor  of  the  erection  of  an 
asylum  building  and  that  he  could  be  depended  upon 
at  all  times.  To  this  circumstance  our  final  success  was 
to  be  attributed,  though  the  question  had  not  been  men- 
tioned in  the  contest  for  the  Speakership.  In  that  matter 
we  simply  had  been  lucky. 

This  was  one  of  the  most  bitterly  contested  struggles 
in  the  history  of  Oregon  Legislatures,  since  the  break- 
ing up  of  a  monopoly  which  furnished  rich  pabulum 
for  its  beneficiaries  was  not  to  be  accomplished  without 
meeting  with  fierce  resistance.  The  friends  of  the 
measure  at  once  called  a  caucus  and  met  every  night 
until  success  crowned  their  efforts.  Every  member  was 
asked  to  look  after  as  many  members  among  his  special 
friends  as  could  be  persuaded  to  join  us  and  to  keep 
things  moving. 

The  two  members  from  Union  County,  my  old  home 
in  eastern  Oregon,  were  Terry  Tuttle  and  J.  W.  Blevans. 
They  were  friends  of  mine  and  I  at  once  turned  my  at- 
tention to  them,  impressing  upon  them  the  necessity  of 
the  State  taking  charge  of  its  unfortunates,  not  only  in 
the  interest  of  humanity,  but  in  pursuance  of  a  wise, 
economical  policy.  Thev  at  once  agreed  with  me  and 
attended   our  caucus  meetings. 

But  I  had  a  brother-in-law,  Dunham  Wright,  who  was 
a  member  of  the  Senate  from  the  same  county,  and  who 
had  already  served  several  terms  in  the  House.  By 
reason  of  this  experience  he  was  "wise"  to  some  things, 
and  having  met  with  several  defeats  for  his  special 
eastern  Oregon  measures,  had  imbibed  a  very  healthy 
dislike   for  anything  that  savored  of   western   Oregon 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  319 

origin.  When  he  discovered,  therefore,  after  a  couple 
of  weeks,  that  his  House  colleagues  were  attending  the 
asylum  caucus,  he  promptly  upbraided  them  for  their 
shortsightedness,  assuring  them  that  in  so  easily  agree- 
ing to  a  measure  which  meant  the  expenditure  of  several 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  Salem,  without  first  exact- 
ing support  in  return  for  eastern  Oregon  measures,  they 
were  throwing  away  their  influence  and,  in  a  sense, 
betraying  the  interests  of  their  constituents,  etc. 

They  both  came  to  me  without  delay  and  explained 
their  dilemma,  adding  that  under  the  circumstances  they 
w'ould  be  compelled  to  withdraw  from  the  asylum  caucus. 
To  this  I  seriously  demurred,  impressing  upon  them  the 
danger  to  their  reputations  should  they  take  such  a  step. 

"Don't  you  know,"  I  said,  "it  is  currently  reported 
around  the  State  House  that  there  is  a  large  sum  of 
money  here  to  be  used  liberally  for  the  purpose  of  defeat- 
ing the  asylum  bill,  and  that  if,  after  you  have  been 
meeting  with  us  and  declaring  yourselves  in  favor  of  its 
passage,  you  suddenly  change  base  and  join  the  other 
side,  there  are  those  who  will  put  two  and  two  together 
and  make  four — maybe  five,  or  six  ?" 

This  presentation  of  the  situation  had  its  desired 
effect  and  they  promised  to  attend  at  least  one  other 
caucus  meeting  on  that  night  and  look  into  the  matter 
a  little    further. 

I  at  once  reported  the  threatened  loss  of  the  two  sup- 
porters of  our  measure  to  several  friends  and  when  the 
caucus  met  I  carried  out  a  scheme — which  we  had  agreed 
upon — by  moving,  as  soon  as  it  was  called  to  order,  that 
Hon.  Terry  Tuttle,  of  Union  County,  be  elected  chair- 
man to  serve  during  the  evening,  the  regular  chairman, 
strangely  enough,  being  absent.  The  motion  w^as  carried 
with  a  great  show^  of  enthusiasm  and  Mr.  Tuttle  was 
escorted  to  the  chair.  Of  course  this  proceeding  so 
prominently  identified  him  with  the  asylum  movement 
that  it  was  thereafter  impossible  for  him  to  desert  us 
without  arousing  suspicion  as  to  his  integrity,  though 


320  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

in  his  case  such  distrust  would  have  been  wholly  un- 
founded. 

The  effect  of  this  ruse  was  to  hold  Tuttle  and  Blevans 
in  line  for  our  bill,  and  it  finally  passed  the  House  with 
but  one  vote  more  than  the  constitutional  requirement. 
It  might  have  been  an  instance  of  legislative  log-rolling — 
it  was,  perhaps — but  it  was  entirely  legitimate  and  was 
wholly  in  the  interest  of  good  legislation.  Mr.  Tuttle 
was  for  several  terms  superintendent  of  schools  for 
Union  County  and  was  a  splendid  type  of  the  western 
pioneer.  He  owned  a  fine  farm  near  Summerville, 
twenty-five  miles  from  where  I  lived  when  I  was  a 
citizen  of  that  county.  In  the  winter  of  1874  I  painted 
his  house,  inside  and  out,  boarding  with  him  for  a 
week.  It  was  at  the  time  when  all  the  lanes  in  that  part 
of  the  Grand  Ronde  valley  had  drifted  so  full  of  snow 
that  they  were  entirely  abandoned  for  neighborhood 
travel.  Mr.  Tuttle  died  a  few  years  ago  when  well  past 
eighty  years  of  age. 

"Jeff"  Blevans,  soon  after  his  legislative  experience, 
moved  into  Wallowa  County,  where  he  still  lives.  He 
had  been  a  school-teacher  in  his  earlier  days  and  had 
taken  on  what  may  be  called  the  pedagogic  habit  of 
conversation.  He  was  very  precise  in  his  use  of 
language  and  somewhat  pompous  in  his  style  of  ex- 
pression. One  morning,  about  the  middle  of  the  session, 
he  arose  when  the  House  was  called  to  order  and  asked 
of  the  Speaker  that  he  might  be  excused  for  the  day, 
as  he  desired  to  visit  some  friends  across  the  river  in 
Polk  County.  Partly  as  a  joke,  I  asked  if  he  really 
intended  to  go  to  Polk  County  or  if,  as  had  been  the 
case  with  many  members,  he  only  wanted  to  attend  to 
other  matters  around  town.  He  replied  that  he  was 
going  to  be  away  from  the  city  all  day  and  wanted  to 
be  marked  legally  absent.  He  was,  therefore,  excused 
for  the  day  and  the  fact  entered  upon  the  minutes. 

Just  before  noon,  however,  after  the  roll  had  been 
called  on  the  passage  of  a  bill  and  before  the  result  had 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  321 

been  announced,  Blevans  arose  from  his  seat  and  asked 
that  his  name  be  called.  I  had  not  noticed  his  presence 
until  I  heard  his  familiar  voice,  and,  in  pursuance  of 
some  fun,  I  objected  to  the  granting  of  his  request,  since 
I  was  certain  the  records  would  show  that  the  gentleman 
from  Union  was  at  that  moment  over  in  Polk  County. 

"But,"  said  Blevans.  "when  I  reached  the  river  bank  I 
found  that  the  Dallas  stage  was  already  crossing  on  the 
ferry  and  I  was  left.  Therefore,  I  am  here  and  want 
very  much  to  vote  on  this  measure,  as  it  is  my  bill." 

Without  looking  at  Blevans.  whose  seat  was  imme- 
diately behind  mine,  I  insisted  to  the  Speaker  that  he 
was  not  present,  as  the  House  would  distinctly  recall 
that  he  had  been  excused,  that  he  had  promised  to 
stay  away  until  the  next  morning,  and  that  in  all 
disputed  legislative  questions  the  record  itself  was  final 
— and  I  appealed  to  the  record !  This  confused  Blevans 
to  a  greater  degree  than  I  had  supposed  possible,  and 
while  the  House  was  roaring  with  laughter  over  his 
discomfiture,  the  clerk  read  the  minutes  which  declared 
that  he  was  undoubtedly  in  Polk  County.  Upon  this 
showing  I  insisted  that  outsiders  had  no  right  to  vote 
on  measures  in  the  House,  that  it  was  not  within  our 
province  to  change  the  minutes  unless  they  were  mani- 
festly wrong,  and  that  they  were  not  correct  not  even 
Mr.  Blevans  would  contend! 

Blevans  finally  succumbed  and  made  no  further  effort 
for  recognition.  He  said  his  bill  had  passed,  he  had 
learned,  that  he  really  had  some  business  he  could  attend 
to  during  the  afternoon  anyway,  and  that  he  would,  with 
pleasure,  make  his  actions  conform  strictly  with  the 
record — and  he  did,  quite  turning  the  tables  on  those  of 
us  who  had  decided  to  abandon  further  opposition  and 
admit  him  to  the  fold  at  once. 

The  Legislature  of  1880  organized  by  the  election  of 
Z.  F.  Moody,  Speaker;  C.  B.  Moores.  chief  clerk;  J. 
W.  Strange,  assistant  clerk;  E.  C.  Hadaway,  sergeant 
at  arms,  and  T.  A.  Bacon,  doorkeeper.     Soon  after  these 


322  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

officers  were  installed,  the  peculiar  combination  of  their 
names  appealed  to  me  as  being  altogether  out  of  the 
ordinary  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  rose  in  my  place  and 
syid: 

"Mr.  Speaker,  I  trust  our  Democratic  friends  will  not 
be  Moody  any  Moore,  nor  think  it  Strange  that  the  Repub- 
licans Hadaway  of  sa^'ing  their  Bacon  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  House." 

The  suddenness  of  this  announcement  at  once  had  a 
most  depressing  effect  upon  the  members,  but  as  soon 
as  they  had  regained  their  normal  bearing  I  found 
myself  in  the  midst  of  a  near-mob  which  was  consider- 
ing the  propriety  of  introducing  a  resolution  of  expul- 
sion ;  but  my  friends,  for  I  had  a  few  yet  remaining, 
pleaded  my  youthfulness  and  lack  of  experience  in  my 
defense  and  the  affair  was  permitted  to  blow  over  with- 
out further  trouble.    But  it  was  a  narrow  escape. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

The  most  active  member  of  the  House  in  the  session 
of  1880  in  opposition  to  the  passage  of  the  asyhim  bill 
was  A.  J.  Lawrence,  of  Baker  County.  He  was  a  lawyer 
of  some  abiHty,  a  fair  speaker,  always  in  evidence,  wore 
a  flannel  shirt  with  the  collar  unfastened,  his  hair  show- 
ing the  effect  of  an  independence  of  combs  and  brushes 
for  probably  the  preceding  five  years,  and  was  con- 
stitutionally opposed  to  every  bill  that  appeared  to  have 
any  prospect  of  enactment.  He  frankly  said  that  he 
wanted  to  make  a  record  for  preventing  as  much  legis- 
lation as  possible — an  ambition  not  to  be  particularly 
censured  when  directed  in  some  channels. 

Lawrence  also  loved  the  flowing  bowl,  the  proof  of 
which  was  often  in  evidence  during  the  daily  sessions. 
He  was  especially  active  against  the  asylum  bill  at  every 
stage  of  its  progress,  generally  relying  on  the  effect  of 
dilatory  motions  rather  than  on  any  sort  of  argument. 
He  preferred  always  to  prolong  the  debates  in  order  to 
consume  time,  hoping  by  that  means  to  delay  bills  until 
the  end  of  the  session,  when  they  might  be  waylaid  for 
lack  of  time  for  their  consideration.  One  of  his  chosen 
methods  was  to  object  strenuously  to  a  committee  report 
and,  after  pointing  out  his  grounds  for  opposition,  move 
to  refer  for  amendment.  Upon  its  reappearance  he 
would  move  to  re-refer — anything  for  a  delay.  He  was 
always  the  last  speaker  on  any  proposition,  since,  if  the 
debate  could  be  prolonged  by  others,  his  main  purpose 
was  attained  and  he  was  willing  to  remain  silent. 

Lawrence  w^as  a  "character,"  and  his  native  ability 
made  of  him  an  opponent  to  be  feared,  for  he  was 
shrewd  and  had  no  care  for  the  methods  employed,  so 
his  ends  were  accomplished.  His  manner  was  peculiar. 
When  it  became  evident  that  a  debate  was  drawing  to  a 

323 


324  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

close,  he  would  lean  forward  in  his  seat,  take  on  the 
look  of  a  fox,  and  twirl  his  spectacles  in  one  hand  while 
he  closely  watched  the  trend  of  things.  This  attitude 
always  indicated  that  he  was  about  to  begin  his  attack. 

But  we  managed  to  dodge  his  flank  movements  suc- 
cessfully until  toward  the  very  last  days  of  the  session, 
when  we  had  our  forces  so  aligned  that  we  were  sure 
of  the  necessary  support,  provided  a  vote  could  be  taken 
at  once.  We  realized  that  any  delay  would  be  dangerous, 
for  the  opposition  was  very  resourceful  and  was  leaving 
nothing  undone  to  deflect  a  vote  where  it  might  be 
possible.  We  had  agreed  to  force  a  vote  immediately 
after  dinner  and  not  to  engage  in  any  debate  whatever. 
When  this  became  apparent,  which  it  soon  did,  Lawrence 
could  not  conceal  his  surprise,  for  he  had  counted  upon 
a  prolonged  fight  on  the  floor  of  the  house.  When  the 
Speaker  ordered  the  clerk  to  call  the  roll  on  the  passage 
of  the  bill,  Lawrence,  who  had  been  leaning  forward  and 
twirling  his  spectacles,  arose  and  addressed  the  Chair, 
Ixit  Speaker  Moody,  according  to  the  program  which 
had  been  formulated,  said,  "Will  the  gentleman  from 
Baker  please  take  the  chair?" 

Lawrence,  who  had  "ginned  up"  a  little  more  than 
usual  for  the  coming  fray,  seeing  that  his  game  was  a 
losing  one  and  that  his  being  called  to  the  chair  at  that 
particular  time  was  a  prearranged  affair,  gave  up  the 
contest,  accepted  the  situation  with  a  broad  smile  and 
with  a  decided  uncertainty  in  his  gait  proceeded  up  the 
aisle  to  the  Speaker's  chair  amid  the  general  laughter 
of  the  members. 

Upon  taking  the  gavel  from  Speaker  Moody's  hands, 
he  said : 

"Gentlemen,  the  question  is,  'Shall  the  bill  pass?' 
Those  who  are  in  favor  of  the  bill  will  answer  'aye' 
as  your  'noes'  are  called  and  those  opposed  will  answer 
'no'  as  your  'ayes'  are  called.  The  clerk  will  call  the 
roll." 

The  fact  was  that  his  tongue  was  wobbly  as  well  as 
his  feet,  and  the  jingle  of  the  usual  form  of  putting  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  325 

question  was  too  much  for  him  to  master.  It  was 
probably  five  minutes  before  there  was  sufficient  decorum 
restored  for  the  roll  to  be  called  in  an  orderly  manner, 
but  the  result  was  a  victory,  with  one  vote  to  spare, 
and  all  was  well. 

The  humdrum  of  ordinary  legislation  was  relieved 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  session  of  1880  by  a  recep- 
tion given  one  afternoon  to  President  Hayes  and  General 
W.  T.  Sherman,  who  were  touring  the  Pacific  coast. 
Both  houses  met  in  joint  convention  and  were  addressed 
by  the  President  and  the  hero  of  the  great  March  to  the 
Sea.  It  was  the  first  time  a  President  of  the  United 
States  had  ever  been  in  Oregon  and  it  was  justly  counted 
a  great  event,  but  it  was  plain  that  the  enthusiasm 
aroused  by  the  presence  of  the  great  military  com- 
mander surpassed  that  felt  on  account  of  the  visit  of  the 
President,  though  his  reception  was  cordial  in  every 
respect.  After  the  addresses  had  been  made,  the  Presi- 
dent, General  Sherman  and  Mrs.  Hayes  stood  in  line 
and  greeted  the  public  with  a  hearty  handshake.  1 
recall  that  as  I  took  the  General's  hand  I  said : 

"General  Sherman,  this  is  almost  as  hard  work  as 
marching  to  the  sea." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  with  his  jerky  manner  of  speech, 
as  he  reached  for  the  hand  of  the  next  man  in  line, 
"quite  as  hard  work,  but  less  dangerous." 

On  that  occasion  there  was  much  admiration  ex- 
pressed for  Mrs.  Hayes,  as  there  was,  indeed,  wherever 
she  was  known.  Her  democratic  manner,  together  with 
her  exceeding  simplicity  of  dress,  was  a  mattei  of 
general  comment.  It  was  commonly  remarked,  I  re- 
member, that  of  the  many  hundreds  of  women  who 
attended  the  reception,  the  President's  wife  was  without 
doubt  the  least  expensively  dressed.  Mrs.  Hayes  was 
an  American  woman  with  that  best  of  womanly  en- 
dowments— common  sense ! 

Before  passing  from  a  consideration  of  some  of  the 
more  prominent   features  of  the   legislative   session   of 


326  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

1880.  I  must  refer  to  the  fact  that  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives had  three  members  who  were  serving  their 
first  terms  in  any  official  capacity,  and  who  were  after- 
wards elected  Governor  of  the  State, — I  refer  to  Z.  F. 
Moody,  George  E.  Chamberlain  and  the  writer. 
Speaker  Moody  was  nominated  for  that  position  by  the 
Republican  State  Convention  in  1882,  and  was  elected 
over  his  Democratic  opponent,  Joseph  S.  Smith,  who  had 
been  elected  to  Congress  in  1868,  by  a  good  majority.  Mr. 
Moody  made  a  splendid  chief  executive  in  every  respect 
and  at  the  end  of  his  term,  having  built  a  fine  residence  in 
Salem,  became  a  citizen  of  the  capital  city  and  has  since 
resided  there.  He  is  now  in  his  eightieth  year,  in  good 
health,  and  bids  fair  to  remain  in  the  land  of  the  living 
until  he  really  becomes  an  old  man.  During  his  term 
the  Legislature  changed  the  time  for  the  beginning  of  its 
biennial  sessions  from  the  second  Monday  in  September 
to  the  second  Monday  in  January.  Under  the  Oregon 
State  Constitution  the  Governor  is  not  inaugurated  until 
the  vote  is  officially  canvassed  and  declared  by  the  Leg- 
islature, and  one  result  of  this  change  was  the  addition 
of  four  months  to  the  length  of  Governor  Moody's 
term  of  office,  he  having  served  from  September,  1882, 
until  January.  1887. 

George  E.  Chamberlain  was  a  member  of  the  Llouse 
in  1880  from  Linn  County,  having  come  to  Oregon  four 
years  before  from  his  native  State,  Mississippi.  He 
made  no  special  mark  during  the  session  and  certainly 
gave  no  promise  of  that  remarkable  capacity  for 
political  manipulation  that  has  since  characterized  his 
career,  though  the  main  ingredient,  a  cordial  handshake, 
was  there,  it  is  recalled,  with  all  its  Southern  fervor. 
It  was  generally  known  that  he  was  recently  from  the 
South,  and  his  manner  had  all  the  effusive  cordiality 
peculiar  to  the  people  of  that  section.  It  was  noticeable 
that  he  became  intimately  acquainted  with  all  the 
members  sooner  than  any  other  man  had  done,  or 
perhaps  was  able  to  do.    At  the  end  of  the  first  week  he 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  327 

knew  Jim  from  eastern  Oregon  and  Tom  from  Jackson 
familiarly  enough  to  slap  them  on  the  shoulder  and 
walk  out  of  the  State  House  arm  in  arm  with  them, 
thus  laying  the  foundation  for  the  popularity  that  had  in 
it  the  elements  which,  within  two  decades,  placed  him- 
self twice  in  the  Governor's  office  and  once  in  the  United 
States  Senate. 

Two  other  men  in  the  session  of  1880  deserve  a  pass- 
ing mention,  John  M.  Thompson,  of  Lane  County,  and 
William  Galloway,  of  Yamhill.  The  session  of  1878,  at 
which  time  Thompson  had  been  Speaker  of  the  House, 
had  appointed  a  committee  to  investigate  certain  charges 
which  had  been  made  against  the  Grover  administration, 
covering  several  matters,  and  Thompson  and  Galloway 
were  the  leading  members  of  that  committee.  They  were 
both  Democrats  and  it  was  expected,  in  some  quarters 
at  least,  that  the  report  would  be  so  arranged  that  no 
political  damage  would  follow.  Thompson  and  Galloway 
had.  however,  adopted  the  policy  of  calling  a  spade  a 
spade  and  their  report  was  altogether  unsatisfactory  to 
those  who  w^re  engineering  the  matter.  The  result  of 
this  was  a  determined  effort  to  defeat  them  for  re- 
election. This  attempt  failed  in  their  respective  county 
conventions  and  before  the  people.  They  were  both  re- 
turned to  the  session  of  1880,  a  splendid  vindication  of 
their  course,  but  were  not  in  good  standing  with  their 
political  colleagues.  There  was  constant  friction  among 
the  Democratic  members  on  this  account,  and  though 
their  party  was  in  a  minority  in  the  Legislature  for  the 
first  time  in  eight  years — largely.  It  was  thought,  on 
account  of  this  legislative  report — there  was  enough  of 
ill  feeling  to  produce  continual  irritation.  Chamberlain 
ranged  himself  with  the  Old  Guard,  and  so  bitter  was 
the  feeling  that  one  day  he  and  Thompson  had  a  personal 
altercation  which,  it  was  generally  understood,  almost 
led  to  bloodshed,  both  being  armed,  it  was  said,  but  better 
counsels  prevailed  and  the  afTair  passed  into  history  as  a 
harmless  episode. 

Thompson    was    a    man    of    quick    temper    and    was 


AJ^  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

[resides  in  ill  health,  the  latter  leading  to  his  death 
within  a  short  time  after  the  close  of  his  legislative 
experience.  Galloway,  on  the  contrary,  will  probably 
live  to  be  a  hundred  years  of  age — holding  lucrative 
positions  all  the  time.  He  owns  a  fine  farm  in  Yam- 
hill County,  but  has  lived  in  some  public  building  most 
of  the  time  since  he  became  of  age,  some  forty  years 
ago.  He  was  the  Democratic  candidate  for  Governor 
in  1894  against  William  P.  Lord,  but  was  defeated. 
He  was  for  a  long  time  Judge  of  Yamhill  County  and 
served  in  the  Government  Land  Office  at  Oregon  City 
until  he  decided  he  would  rather  discharge  the  duties 
of  judge  for  the  Third  District,  comprising  the  counties 
of  Marion,  Linn,  Yamhill,  Tillamook  and  Polk.  Hav- 
ing come  to  this  conclusion  he  announced  his  candidacy 
and,  though  a  Democrat,  defeated  a  good  Republican 
in  a  district  that  is  Republican  by  at  least  two  thousand 
majority.  At  the  end  of  six  years,  feeling  that  he  would 
enjoy  another  temi,  he  so  informed  the  electorate — and 
it  came  to  pass. 

Galloway  was  raised  in  Yamhill  County  and  when  a 
boy  knew  every  Lidian  on  the  Grand  Round  reserva- 
tion— in  fact,  they  were  boys  together.  He  called  them 
Tom.  George  and  Charley,  as  the  case  might  be,  and 
they  all  called  him  "Bill."  One  day,  three  years  ago, 
he  was  holding  court  in  Dallas,  and  a  case  was  being 
tried  which  involved  a  Grand  Round  Indian  on  a  charge 
of  gross  misconduct.  This  Indian  and  the  judge  had 
been  boys  together,  though  the  former  had  always  re- 
mained on  the  reservation.  The  prosecuting  attorney 
was  examining  the  Indian  as  a  witness  and  had  flatly 
contradicted  a  statement  he  had  made.  This  so  angered 
him  that  he  turned  to  the  court  and  said: 

"Bill,  that  is  the  truth.  You  know,  Bill,  that  I 
wouldn't  lie!" 

"Bill"  acknowledged  the  corn  and  from  the  bench 
vouched  for  the  uniform  good  character  of  the  Indian, 
as  an  Indian,  and  his  acquittal  soon  followed. 

Judge    Galloway  is  a  man  who  has  the  confidence  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  329 

those  we  call  the  "common  people,"  is  suave  always,  has 
the  Chamberlain  manner  in  accosting  people,  acquaint- 
ances and  strangers  alike,  is  a  Democrat  between  cam- 
paigns but  a  non-partisan  during  their  progress,  and 
is,  withal,  a  good,  all  'round,  typical  Western  American 
citizen  of  the  pioneer  mold — and  that  is  saying  a  good 
deal   in    favor   of   any  man. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

One  of  the  important  acts  of  the  Legislative  session 
of  1887  was  the  passage  of  a  law  creating  a  Railroad 
Commission.  It  was  the  first  session  of  the  Legislature 
after  the  inauguration  of  Sylvester  Pennoyer  as  Gov- 
ernor antl  he  had  incorporated  into  his  inaugural  ad- 
dress a  goodly  amount  of  his  idiosyncrasies  on  political 
as  well  as  economic  cfuestions.  Pennoyer  was  full  of 
them,  not  really,  it  was  generally  believed,  but  for  the 
effect  it  had  upon  the  "populace,"  to  which  he  was  ap- 
pealing for  support  in  his  public  career,  upon  which  he 
was  then  just  starting.  He  had  made  his  campaign  for 
Governor  in  the  spring  of  1886  upon  the  question  of 
exclusion  of  Chinese  from  the  State  and,  as  such  an 
appeal  is  always  received  with  favor  by  most  people, 
and  especially  those  known  as  "working  people,"  it  was 
a  good  "slogan"  to  wield,  and  in  the  hands  of  a  man 
like  Pennoyer  it  was  effective  to  the  last  degree. 

Governor  Pennoyer  was  for  ten  years  the  central 
figure  in  Oregon  politics.  In  his  earlier  life  he  had  been 
a  school-teacher  in  Portland  and  afterward  editor  of  a 
paper,  but  he  had  been  in  retirement  until  his  nomination 
for  Governor  in  1886.  THe  Chinese  question  had  been 
vigorously  agitated  for  a  year  or  two  prior  to  this,  and 
the  time  was  ripe  for  a  man  of  Pennoyer's  ability  to 
appeal  to  tlie  voters  al<mg  the  line  of  "the  masses  against 
the  classes."  "the  mrnic}^  pOA\cr,"  "Caesar."  dr.,  and  he 
came  to  the  front  for  th-e  reason  that  he  saw  his  op- 
portunity. No  public  man  in  Oregon  has  ever  been  a 
more  thor(nigh  aristocrat.  No  man  ever  saw  him  on  the 
street  or  in  public  anywhere  without  his  standing  collar 
of  the  Henry  Clay  style.  His  manner  was  exceedingly 
stiff  and  his  bearing  almost  painfully  dignified.  Yet  he 
w^as  always  approachable  by  the  humblest  of  men  and 

330 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  331 

received  all  callers  at  the  executive  office  most  cordially. 
He  was  a  very  kindly  man  at  all  times,  and  was  always 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  Bill  Smith  could  cast  as 
effective  a  vote  as  the  Hon.  So  and  So.  Therefore 
Pennoyer  never  lost  sight  of  the  importance  of  cultivat- 
ing the  friendship  and  admiration  of  Bill  Smith  and  all 
his  personal  friends. 

In  the  spring  of  1886  the  Oregon  Republicans  had 
nominated  Colonel  Thomas  R.  Cornelius  for  Governor, 
one  of  the  best  and  most  favorably  known  of  the  early 
pioneers,  a  farmer  by  occupation  and  a  man  who  should 
have  received  every  Republican  vote  in  Oregon;  but 
the  campaign  had  but  opened  when  it  was  discovered — 
or  the  claim  was  made  that  it  had  been  discovered — that 
at  some  time  not  very  far  in  the  past  Colonel  Cornelius 
had  employed  a  Chinaman  to  w^ash  some  shirts — and 
the  revelation  of  this  unpardonable  offense  against  good 
government  and  the  rights  of  man  was  more  than  his 
otherwise  faultless  record  in  Oregon  for  forty  years 
could  overcome.  Everywhere  the  people  were  informed 
of  the  lack  of  sympathy  on  the  part  of  Colonel  Cornelius 
for  the  laboring  man — as  proven  indisputably  by  the 
incident  of  his  laundry  patronage — and  Pennoyer  was 
not  the  man  to  permit  the  common  people  to  be  imposed 
upon  without  emphasizing  the  danger  to  which  they  were 
subjected  if  a  man  of  this  character  w^re  allowed  to 
occupy  the  highest  office  in  the  State ! 

So  Pennoyer  was  elected  and  inaugurated  in  January. 
1887.  In  his  inaugural  address  he  gave  expression 
freely  to  his  peculiar  ideas  upon  the  Federal  Constitu- 
tion and  the  usurpation  by  the  courts.  State  and  national, 
of  the  powers  which  belonged  exclusively  to  the  State 
Legislatures  and  to  Congress.  The  Legislature  had 
enacted  a  registry  law  which  the  Supreme  Court  had 
pronounced  unconstitutional.  This  act  of  the  court  was 
denounced  by  Governor  Pennoyer  as  being  plainly 
beyond  its  power  or  right,  and  he  contended  to  the 
Legislature  in  one  of  his  messages  that,  notwithstanding 
the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  law  still  stood 


332  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

and  was  really  in  effect.  Of  course  this  position  was 
absurd  in  the  extreme  and  it  created  great  merriment  in 
the  Legislature  and  out  of  it.  The  following  is  an 
abstract  from  the  Governor's  message : 

There  cannot  be  found  in  the  Constitution  of  Oregon 
any  warrant  for  such  a  proceeding.  There  cannot 
be  found  in  the  Constitution  any  provision  by  which 
the  judges  of  the  several  Courts  of  Oregon  are  ex- 
empted from  obedience  to  the  laws  of  the  State.  There 
cannot  be  found  there  any  warrant  by  which  they  can 
suspend,  by  an  order,  the  operation  of  a  law  which 
that  Constitution  expressly  declares  shall  never  be 
suspended  except  by  the  Legislative  Assembly.  By 
that  instrument  they  are  bound  to  obey  and  enforce 
the  law,  and  are  not  privileged  to  disregard  and 
nullify  the  law.  In  that  instrument  there  is  no  pro- 
vision by  which  the  unanimous  will  of  the  people  in 
regard  to  this  registry  law,  regularly  expressed  in  a 
legislative  enactment,  can  be  thwarted  by  any  two  or 
three  men  in  the  State.  Judges  cannot  make  or  un- 
make laws,  but  like  others,  they  must  obey  the  laws. 

After  supporting  this  most  remarkable  position  by 
an  extended  argument,  he  closed  with  this  statement  of 
his  conclusion : 

Finding,  therefore,  no  warrant,  either  in  the  State 
or  Federal  Constitution,  for  the  Judicial  Department 
to  nullify  an  enactment  of  the  Legislature,  the  con- 
clusion is  irresistible  that  the  Registration  Act  as 
passed  by  the  Legislature  of  Oregon  is  the  law  of 
the  land  to-day,  and  that  the  order  of  the  court  sus- 
pending the  operation  of  such  law  was  in  violation 
of  Section  23,  Article  i,  of  the  Constitution,  and 
therefore  that  it  was  void  and  of  no  effect. 

This  astonishing  exposition  of  constitutional  powers 
as  between  the  Legislative  and  the  judicial  departments 
of  government  gives  a  very  fair  illustration  of  what  was 
popularly  know^n  in  those  days  as  "Pennoyerism."  His 
most  intimate  acquaintances  knew  that  he  knew  better 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN'  OREGOM  333 

than  sincerely  to  hold  to  many  of  his  publicly  expressed 
opinions;  but  he  was  in  politics  to  win.  and  these  ex- 
treme utterances,  especially  if  they  are  directed  against 
the  established  order  of  things,  never  fail  to  touch  some 
sort  of  popular  chord  and  to  win  a  following.  A  fol- 
lowing was  what  Pennoyer  always  wanted,  and  it  was 
what  he  generally  had. 

Parenthetically,  it  may  be  admitted  that  for  a  man  in 
politics  to  have  a  following,  if  it  is  strong  enough  to 
bring  about  desired  results,  is  not  a  really  objectionable 
thing. 

I  was  not  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of  1887,  but 
was  present  at  the  delivery  of  Governor  Pennoyer's 
inaugural  address  and  witnessed  the  amusement  with 
which  this  part  of  it  was  received  by  the  assembled 
lawmakers,  as  well  as  by  those  in  the  galleries.  It 
created  a  great  sensation,  and  that  this  pleased  the  Gov- 
ernor immensely  was  plainly  seen.  That  was  what  he 
wanted,  for  one  of  his  peculiarities  was  that  he  would 
rather  be  abused  at  any  time  than  to  be  ignored. 

Within  a  week  or  two  after  tliis  incident  I  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Orcgonian,  a  column  in  length,  reviewing 
this  stand  of  the  Governor  on  the  powers  of  State  and 
Federal  Courts,  sprinkling  it  quite  liberally  with  ridicule, 
and  closed  with  this  paragraph : 

For  many  ye<irs  past  it  has  been  the  custom  of 
Californians  to  ship  Oregon  apples  to  their  State,  label 
them  California  apples  and  send  them  to  Eastern  mar- 
kets, they  have  imported  Columbia  River  salmon  by 
the  thousands  of  cases,  re-marked  them  as  California 
salmon  and  secured  fabulous  prices  for  them  in  the 
markets  of  the  world  ;  Oregon  lumber  is  re-shipped  East 
as  California  lumber,  and  even  California  geographies 
never  fail  to  locate  Mt.  Hood  inside  the  northern  boun- 
dary of  the  Golden  State ;  but  all  these  offenses,  these 
sins  of  commission  and  omission,  will  be  swept  into 
the  bottomless  pit  of  forgiveness  and  forgetfulness  if 
hereafter  our  neighbors  on  the  south,  as  well  as  all 
other  outsiders,  will  speak  of  Governor  Pennoyer  of 
California. 


334  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

To  this  letter  I  signed  the  name  of  our  country  post- 
office,  "Macleay,"  not  feehng  disposed  to  sign  my  own 
name  to  a  communication  of  so  personal  a  nature.  It 
created  a  little  ripple  on  the  surface  of  the  local  political 
sea  at  the  time,  was  copied  in  some  of  the  State  papers, 
commented  on  here  and  there  and  was  soon  for- 
gotten— by  me. 

As  was  said  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  this 
session  enacted  a  law  establishing  a  State  Railroad  Com- 
mission, by  the  terms  of  which  the  Governor  was  to 
appoint  the  two  members  who  were  to  compose  it.  It 
was  required  that  one  of  them  should  be  a  Democrat  and 
the  other  a  Republican.  They  were  to  serve  for  two 
years  at  an  annual  salary  of  $2,500,  with  an  appendage 
called  a  clerk.  To  be  one  of  these  members  was  a  de- 
sirable position  and,  naturally,  there  was  some  excite- 
ment among  certain  people  as  the  time  approached  for 
the  appointment  to  be  made — "on  or  before  the  first 
of  April." 

Being  a  farmer,  and  having  some  experience  in  public 
afifairs,  several  of  my  friends  began  working  with  the 
Governor  for  my  selection  as  the  Republican  member 
of  the  Commission.  I  did  not  then  know  him  personally, 
but  he  had  heard  of  me.  I  learned,  and  was  somewhat 
disposed  to  look  upon  my  appointment  with  favor. 
Things  were  in  this  condition  when,  one  forenoon  about 
ten  o'clock  in  the  last  week  of  March,  I  recei\ed  my 
mail  from  a  neighbor  who  had  been  to  Macleay,  and 
in  it  was  a  letter  from  the  "Executive  Office"  in  vSalem, 
and  it  was  addressed  to  me  in  the  well-known,  fine,  even 
chirography  of  Governor  Pennoyer.  At  once  divining 
the  possible  nature  of  its  contents,  I  had  it  read  in  a 
jiffy.  He  merely  asked  me  if  it  would  be  convenient 
for  me  to  call  upon  him  in  the  immediate  future  for  a 
little  consultation.  I  was  planting  potatoes  in  a  small 
field  above  the  house  at  the  time,  but  within  an  hour  I 
had  changed  my  clothes,  partaken  of  a  light  luncheon, 
saddled  "Coly"  and  was  on  my  way,  though  I  was  not 
sure  where  I  was  going. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  335 

Upon  arriving  at  Salem  I  tied  my  horse  to  a  large 
maple  tree  on  the  edge  of  the  campus  of  the  Willamette 
University,  directly  opposite  the  State  House  and  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  where  the  old  Oregon  Institute  stood, 
where  I  attended  school  in  the  early  'Go's.  I  soon 
presented  myself  to  the  Governor  who  received  me  very 
cordially.  Proceeding  to  the  point  without  delay,  he  said 
he  had  been  asked  to  appoint  me  as  the  Republican 
member  of  the  Railroad  Commission  and  wanted  to 
talk  the  matter  over  with  me.  He  said  he  had  already 
decided  to  appoint  Hon.  James  H.  Slater,  of  La  Grande, 
as  the  Democratic  member  and  wanted  to  know  if  I 
could  work  agreeablv  with  him  on  the  Commission,  in 
case  of  my  selection.  I  replied  that  I  could,  especially 
since  I  had  known  him  intimately  during  my  ten  years' 
residence  in  Union  County:  besides,  I  was  in  no  humor 
just  then  to  argue  with  His  Excellency  the  expediency 
or  desirability  of  appointing  any  particular  man  to  the 
Democratic  place  on  the  Board.  The  fact  was  I  could 
have  worked  agreeably  with  any  Democrat  in  the  State 
whom  the  Governor  might  have  desired  to  favor,  as 
near  as  I  can  come  at  this  date  to  analyzing  my  senti- 
ments. I  was  only  concerned  as  to  the  complexion  of 
the  Republican  side  of  the  Commission,  and  I  did  have 
a  decided  preference  as  to  who  should  fill  that  particular 
l)lace. 

Mr.  Slater,  who  had  served  two  years  in  the  lower 
House  of  Congress  and  a  full  term  as  United  States 
Senator,  was  fully  equipped  to  serve  on  the  Railroad 
Commission  and,  as  I  recall  the  conversation  now,  I 
extolled  his  many  excellent  qualities  more  enthusiasti- 
cally to  Governor  Pennoyer  just  then  than  I  had  ever 
done  before. 

The  interview  ended,  I  went  down  on  the  main  streets 
of  Salem  and,  to  strengthen  my  prospects,  requested  a 
few  prominent  Democrats  who  were  personal  friends  of 
mine  to  do  a  little  "rustling"  with  the  Governor  in  order 
to  make  my  appointment  sure;  this  they  said  they  would 
gladly  do.     So  I  went  home,  happily  dreaming  of  re- 


336  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

ceiving  a  commission  of  appointment,  splendidly  en- 
graved, together  with  the  congratulations  of  my  friends 
from  different  parts  of  the  State.  I  considered,  too, 
the  possibility  of  hiring  a  hand  on  the  farm  to  do  the 
\ery  hard  work  while  T  looked  after  the  interests  of  the 
public. 

But  alas  for  the  vain  hopes  of  man !  The  next  day 
at  noon  I  received  the  Salem  Daily  Statesman,  and  there, 
in  glaring  headlines,  was  the  announcement  that  the 
Governor  had  appointed  on  the  Railroad  Commission 
Hon.  James  H.  Slater,  of  La  Grande,  and  Hon.  George 
A.  Waggoner,  of  Corvallis! 

That  afternoon  I  finished  planting  my  potatoes,  but  at 
digging  time  the  following  October  it  was  impossible 
to  decide  whether  that  part  of  the  field  had  been  planted 
north  and  south  or  diagonally  with  the  compass,  and 
the  yield  was  a  cross  between  the  Early  Rose  and  the 
White  Kidney,  though  the  latter  variety  had  been  out- 
lawed in  that  section  for  twenty  years.  A  large  share 
of  the  potatoes  came  out  of  the  ground  cross-eyed,  and 
all  were  heavy  at  the  heart! 

I  had  ne\'er  been  a  very  ardent  admirer  of  Governor 
Pennoyer,  but  after  that  mistake  of  his  there  was  no 
time  in  his  career  when  I  could  persuade  myself  that 
his  judgment  could  be  relied  upon  in  an  important 
emergency.     He  was  too  fickle. 

When  I  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  make  another 
trip  to  Salem — which  was  in  the  following  July,  I 
believe — I  learned  that  when  I  had  requested  some  of 
my  Democratic  friends  to  intercede  for  me  with  the 
Governor  it  soon  became  known  to  a  few  other  Demo- 
crats with  whom  I  had  had  some  political  tilts  in  pre- 
ceding local  campaigns  and  who  proposed  that  I  should 
not  "get  ahead"  politically,  if  they  could  help  it.  These 
at  once  went  to  His  Excellency  and  told  him  what  they 
had  heard.  He  replied  that  he  was,  indeed,  thinking 
very  strongly  of  my  appointment,  etc. 

"But,"  they  said,  "did  you  know,  Governor,  you  are 
about  to  appoint  the  man  on  the  Board  who  wrote  that 


FTI-T^'  YEARS  IN  OREGON  337 

letter  to  tlic  Orecjonwii  a  little  v\hile  ago  signed 
'Macleay?'  " 

"You  don't  mean  (o  say  he  is  the  man  who  wrote 
that  letter?"  inquired  the  Governor. 

''He  is  the  very  man,"  they  informed  him.  "and  surely 
von  won't  put  him  on  the  Board  of  Railroad  Commis- 
sioners. There  are  a  number  of  other  Re])ublicans  who 
are  applicants  and  who  would  be  decidedly  less  objec- 
tionable to  Democrats  generally." 

Possessed  with  this  bit  of  information,  it  was  as 
easy  for  the  Governor  to  erase  my  name  from  the  list 
as  it  was  for  him  to  wink  his  eye  at  one  of  his  sly 
jokes — and  that  means  it  was  no  effort  at  all. 

During  the  month  of  May,  1901.  fourteen  years  after 
the  occurrence  of  the  above  episode,  and  when  I  was 
in  the  Executive  chair.  I  visited  Cahfornia.  President 
McKinley  was  there  at  the  time  to  witness  the  launch- 
ing of  the  battleship  Ohio.  One  day,  with  my  wife.  I 
visited  San  Jose  and  while  there  called  upon  Alfred 
Holman,  then  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  San  Jose 
Mercury.  Holman  was  a  native  of  Oregon  and  was 
for  a  number  of  years  a  member  of  the  editorial  staff 
of  the  Oregonian.  Soon  after  entering  his  office,  he 
suggested  that  he  should  invite  in  the  Mayor,  president 
of  the  Board  of  Trade  and  a  few  other  celebrities,  with 
their  wives,  and  give  us  a  dinner  at  our  hotel,  and  this 
was  done.  During  the  progress  of  the  meal  Holman 
had  a  lot  of  fun  recalling  some  of  our  Oregon  ex- 
periences. He  was  relating  to  the  guests  how  for  a  good 
while  it  had  been  one  of  my  fads,  while  on  the  farm, 
to  write  letters  for  the  papers,  and  how  he  had  frequently 
had  difficulty  in  deciphering  my  handwriting.  "And," 
he  added,  "he  used  to  write  mighty  good  stuff,  too." 

"Yes,"  I  interrupted,  "I  remember  one  letter  I  wrote 
to  the  Oregonian  a  few  years  ago  that  cost  me  five  thou- 
sand dollars."  Before  I  could  get  any  further  with  my 
story  Holman  quickly  inquired : 

"How  was  that?  Did  her  husband  get  hold  of  it 
first?" 


338      .         FIFTY  YEARS  IN  ORFGON 

And,  notwithstanding  this  break,  Hohnan  has  been 
strangely  permitted  to  Hve  to  this  day,  though  soon  after 
that  he  moved  to  San  Francisco,  where  he  now  owns 
the  Argonaut. 

The  man,  George  Waggoner,  who  "usurped"  my  place 
on  the  first  Oregon  Railroad  Commission  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  session  of  the  Legislature  in  1880,  where  we 
became  good  friends,  a  relation  which  has  been  main- 
tained to  date.  But  I  knew  him  first  w^hile  I  lived  in 
Union  County  when  he  was  a  resident  of  Walla  Walla. 
One  day  in  the  early  spring  of  1876  my  wife  had  made 
a  "pieplant"  pie,  and  as  it  was  a  great  delicacy,  being 
the  first  fruit  of  the  year,  and  all  kinds  of  fruit  being 
very  scarce  in  that  country  in  those  days,  my  two  little 
tow-headed  girls,  Maud  and  Dosia,  aged  respectively 
five  and  three  years,  could  hardly  w^ait  until  the  noon 
hour  for  the  pleasure  of  tasting  it.  In  fact,  they  had 
been  watching  the  growth  of  those  few  stalks  of  rhu- 
bard  for  two  weeks,  and  each  day  came  in  reporting  that 
they  were  sure  they  were  large  enough  to  pull. 

So  this  day  the  little  things  stood  by  the  table  as 
their  mother  stewed  the  fruit  and  made  it  into  a  pie. 
They  watched  it  as  it  was  placed  in  the  oven,  and  as  it 
came  out,  full  of  juice.  We  w-ere  about  to  seat  ourselves 
around  the  table  when  there  was  a  shout  at  the  front 
gate.  Upon  investigation  it  proved  to  be  two  Walla 
Walla  hog  buyers  who  were  anxious,  they  said,  to  get 
their  dinners.  It  is  never  customary  in  the  country  to 
refuse  a  man  his  dinner,  so  they  were  invited  in  and 
after  seeing  that  their  horses  were  fed  we  began  the 
meal. 

This  unexpected  intrusion  made  it  necessary  for  the 
two  little  girls  to  w^ait,  and  as  they  stood  in  the  parti- 
tion door  between  the  kitchen  and  sitting-room,  lean- 
ing against  the  "jamb."  they  presented  about  as  doleful 
a  pair  of  countenances  as  one  w^ould  run  across  in  an 
average  lifetime.  I  am  perfectly  honest  when  I  say 
that  I  felt  so  sorry  for  them  in  their  disappointment  that 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  339 

I  did  not  enjoy  either  the  meal  or  the  visitors.  They — 
the  visitors — had  voracious  appetites,  it  being  my 
opinion  then,  I  remember,  that  they  must  have  been 
fasting  since  leaving  Walla  Walla  three  days  before, 
and  were  just  ''coming  to." 

When  it  came  time  to  "pass  the  pie"  my  wife  cut  it 
in  six  pieces,  remembering  the  little  girls.  The  visitors 
were  fairly  ecstatic  in  their  praises  of  the  pie.  It  had  been 
years  since  they  had  had  the  pleasure  of  eating  a  pieplant 
pie ;  they  had  always  been  wonderfully  partial  to  that  kind 
of  pie  anyway;  they  wondered  why  farmers  did  not  raise 
more  rhubarb,  since  they  understood  it  was  easily  grown. 
And,  then,  my  wife  was  certainly  an  expert  at  making 
pies,  for  they  had  not  found  anything  quite  so  good 
in  all  their  travels.  By  this  time  their  consignments 
were  gone  and,  with  knives  firmly  gripped  in  their  right 
hands  and  forks  in  their  left,  they  looked  at  those  two 
remaining  pieces  with  a  yearning  that  was  fierce  to 
behold.  I  was  certain  that  if  I  didn't  invite  them  to  have 
another  helping  they  would  rake  the  remnants  in  anyway, 
so  I  asked  them  to  have  another  piece.  I  passed  the 
plate,  and  unhesitatingly,  without  a  tremor,  without 
batting  an  eye,  the  gallant  Walla  Wallaians  accepted  the 
invitation, — the  remainder  of  that  pie  went  glimmering 
and  the  plate  was  empty! 

At  this  phase  of  the  catastrophe  I  looked  at  the 
children,  and  they  rushed  out  of  the  house,  screaming 
with  all  their  might,  and  down  into  the  raspberry 
"patch."  There  I  found  them,  as  soon  as  I  could  ex- 
cuse myself,  cr3Mng  as  if  their  hearts  would  break  and, 
like  Rachel  of  old.  they  refused  to  be  comforted.  Upon 
my  return  I  told  the  guests  one  of  the  girls  had  been 
stung  by  a  yellow  jacket,  though  that  insect  was  not 
due  for  yet  four  months.  And  yet  they  had  really  been 
"stung!" 

One  of  these  men  of  abnormal  appetite,  was  George 
Waggoner  and  the  other  was  Obadiah  Osborne,  a 
preacher  in  the  United  Brethren  Church.  They  were, 
of   course,   entirely  unconscious   of   the   part   they  had 


340  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

played  in  the  tragedy  of  the  pie.  In  January,  1891, 
when  I  was  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives, 
my  daughters,  then  eighteen  and  twenty  years  respect- 
ively, visited  me  for  a  few  days  in  Salem.  Happening 
to  meet  Waggoner  in  the  corridors  of  the  State  House, 
I  informed  the  girls,  after  an  introduction,  that  he  was 
the  man  whom  they  had  never  forgotten,  recalling  to 
his  mind  at  the  same  time  the  two  little  girls  who  had 
so  suddenly  fled  from  the  kitchen  on  that  day  'way 
back  in  1876,  trying  to  escape  from  a  yellow  jacket, — 
in  April. 

The  instance  was  related  in  the  presence  of  a  dozen 
House  members  and  it  was  unanimously  agreed  among 
them  afterwards  that  it  was  the  only  time  in  their 
acquaintance  with  Waggoner  that  he  was  plainly  em- 
barrassed. He  apologized  profusely  to  the  girls,  urging 
a  furious  appetite  in  extenuation,  but  seemed  wholly 
unable  to  think  of  a  way  of  making  restitution  that  would 
be  in  any  sense  adequate. 

And  yet.  Waggoner  is  a  i)retty  good  man,  when  you 
come  to  know  him  well. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

When  the  campaign  of  1888  opened  I  was  nominated 
for  the  Legislature  again  and  my  election  followed,  with 
all  the  Republican  ticket  in  Marion  County,  my  colleagues 
being  William  Armstrong,  John  B.  Waldo.  John  Q. 
Wilson  and  Samuel  Layman — all  strong  men. 

Indeed,  in  looking  over  the  list  of  members  of  the 
Legislature  of  1889,  both  Senate  and  House,  I  am  in- 
clined to  the  belief  that  it  contained  a  larger  per  cent,  of 
able  men  than  any  other  session  in  the  history  of  the 
State.  I  was  so  impressed  at  the  time,  and  I  recall  that 
the  personnel  of  the  delegation  from  Multnomah  County 
in  the  House  was  remarkable  because  it  was  made  up 
of  men  who  were  even  then  projninent  in  the  business 
and  political  world.  It  is  well  known  that  in  these  days 
and  under  the  present  conditions  of  political  life  it  is 
seldom  that  men  of  this  caliber  can  be  induced  to  submit 
to  the  annoyances  and  humiliations  w^hich  characterize 
the  average  political  campaign. 

There  were  nine  men  in  the  House  from  Multnomah 
County  in  1889,  as  follows:  William  M.  Ladd.  H.  H. 
Northup,  W.  B.  Gilbert,  R.  P.  Earhart.  W.  T.  Hume. 
D.  P.  Thompson.  J.  A.  Strowbridge,  J.  J.  Fisher,  S.  R. 
Harrington  and  T.  E.  Fell, — men  of  weight  and  ability 
and  sincerity  of  purpose. 

William  M.  Ladd  is  at  present  and  for  many  years  has 
been  the  president  of  the  banking  firm  of  Ladd  &  Tilton. 
one  of  the  oldest  and  strongest  financial  firms  west  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  H.  H.  Northup  is  one  of  the 
able  lawyers  of  Portland,  a  Grand  Army  man  with  a 
distinguished  record  during  the  war;  since  serving  in 
the  Legislature  that  session  he  has  been  Judge  of  Multno- 
mah County  for  four  years  and  was  the  "sound  money" 

341 


342  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

candidate  for  Congress  in  1896.  W.  B.  Gilbert  was 
soon  afterward  appointed  to  the  position  of  United 
States  Circuit  Judge  for  the  District  of  Oregon  and 
Cahfornia,  the  duties  of  A\hich  he  is  (Hscharging  with 
great  honor  to  himself  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
people.  R.  P.  Earhart  had  but  recently  retired  from 
the  position  of  Secretar}^  of  State,  which  he  had  occupied 
for  eight  years  with  signal  ability.  D.  P.  Thompson 
was  one  of  the  best  known  men  in  Oregon,  a  man  who, 
after  reaching  his  majority,  had  split  cord  wood  in  the 
woods  near  Oregon  City,  and  who  afterward  amassed 
a  fortune  by  his  careful  management  and  shrew^d  invest- 
ments. Mr.  Thompson  once  said  he  was  "a  farmer  by 
birth,  a  blacksmith  by  trade,  a  surveyor  by  education 
and  a  banker  by  occupation."  In  1890  he  was  the  Repub- 
lican nominee  for  Governor,  but  w'as  defeated  by  Syl- 
vester Pennoyer  because  he  was  a  banker.  He  would 
have  made  a  most  excellent  Governor,  but  paid  the  penalty 
of  being  a  successful  man.  He  died  when  comparatively 
young,  leaving  a  large  fortune  to  his  family.  W.  T. 
Hume  was  a  lawyer  of  rare  ability  wdio  afterward  served 
Multnomah  County  for  two  terms  as  District  Attorney. 
S.  R.  Harrington  was  a  lawyer  with  an  extensive  practice 
and  a  splendid  record  as  a  soldier  and  officer  in  the 
Union  army  during  the  Civil  W'ar.  J.  J.  Fisher  was  a 
prominent  physician  of  East  Portland  and  J.  A.  Strow- 
bridge  was  a  well-known  business  man  of  Portland  and 
one  of  its  earliest  pioneers. 

This  was  a  notable  list  of  distinguished  citizens  who 
were  willing  to  donate  their  services  to  the  public  for 
the  pulilic  good.  They  were  able  to  make  their  cam- 
paigns without  meeting  a  torrent  of  personal  abuse  and 
were  not  accused  of  being  rascals  bent  upon  the  "subju- 
gation of  the  common  people."  These  men  are  all  living 
to-day.  with  the  exception  of  Thompson,  Earhart  and 
Strowbridge,  and  it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  any  one  of 
them,  if  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature  now,  could  be 
elected  under  any  circumstances. 

In  the  Senate  Multnomah  County  had  Joseph  Simon, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  343 

George  A.  Steel,  J.  C.  Carson.  Donald  Mackay  and  J.  K. 
W'ait.  Simon  has  since  been  United  States  Senator  from 
Oregon  and  Steel  has  served  one  term  as  State  Treas- 
urer.  The  other  three  were  men  of  high  standing  in  the 
business  circles  of  Portland.  Other  members  of  the 
Senate  were:  George  Chandler,  of  Baker;  T.  E.  Cau- 
thorne.  of  Benton;  J.  W.  Watts,  of  Yamhill;  F.  A. 
Moore,  of  Columbia;  Thomas  H.  Tongue,  of  Washing- 
ton; J.  H.  Raley.  of  Umatilla;  J.  B.  Looney,  J.  B.  Dimick 
and  M.  L.  Chamberlin.  of  Marion;  J.  H.  D.  Gray,  of 
Clatsop;  C.  A.  Cogswell,  of  Lake;  R.  M.  Veatch  and 
S.  B.  Eakin.  of  Lane;  J.  C.  Fullerton.  of  Douglas;  S.  A. 
Dawson,  of  Linn,  and  Charles  Hilton,  of  Wasco. 

In  the  House  were  E.  L.  Smith,  of  Wasco,  chosen 
Speaker;  John  T.  Apperson,  Peter  Paquet  and  R.  V. 
Short,  of  Clackamas;  J.  N.  Williamson,  of  Crook;  J.  E. 
Blundell,  of  Douglas;  Robert  A.  Miller,  of  Jackson; 
S.  W.  Condon  and  A.  C.  Jennings,  of  Lane;  J.  W. 
Maxwell,  of  Tillamook;  H.  J.  Bean,  of  Umatilla;  E.  O. 
McCoy,  of  Wasco;  Charles  Goodnough,  of  Union,  and 
Thomas  Paulsen,  of  Washington. 

These  were  all  substantial  citizens  who  proved  very 
active  and  efficient  members.  F.  A.  Moore  has  since 
been  a  member  of  the  State  Supreme  Court  for  twenty 
years  and  H.  J.  Bean,  after  serving  as  District  Attorney 
and  Circuit  Judge  for  Umatilla  and  Morrow  counties,  is 
just  now  beginning  a  full  term  as  one  of  the  Justices  of 
the  Supreme  Court.  E.  L.  Smith  has  served  for  several 
years  as  president  of  the  State  Board  of  Horticulture 
and  has  done  more  to  make  the  apples  of  Hood  River 
famous  the  world  over  than  any  other  man.  Robert  A. 
Miller  has  since  been  a  Democratic  candidate  for  Con- 
gress and  served  for  six  years  as  Register  of  the  United 
States  Land  Office  at  Oregon  City.  J.  N.  Williamson 
has  since  been  elected  to  Congress  twice  and  is  one  of 
the  prominent  stockmen  of  Crook  County.  R.  V.  Short 
was  a  member  of  the  State  Constitutional  Convention  of 
1857;  S.  W.  Condon  was  the  son  of  Rev.  Thomas 
Condon,    who    for   several    years   was   geologist   at   the 


344  FTFTV   VF-..\RS   TX  OREGOX 

State  L'ni^■ersity ;  E.  O.  McG^y  was  a  prominent  business 
man  of  eastern  Oregon ;  J.  W.  Maxwell  was  a  well- 
known  Grand  Army  man  of  Tillamook  County;  Charles 
Goodnough  was  a  man  extensively  interested  in  several 
mercantile  firms  in  Union  and  Wallowa  counties  and 
Thomas  Paulsen  was  one  of  the  successful  dairymen  of 
his  county. 

There  were  other  members  worthy  of  mention  who 
contributed  to  the  work  of  the  session  intelligently  and 
conscientiously.  Taken  altogether,  as  T  have  said,  it  was 
without  doubt  the  ablest  assemblage  which  has  ever  com- 
posed an  Oregon  Legislature — and  no  participant  in  any 
other  session  can  possibly  take  umbrage  at  this  estimate, 
for  he  can.  if  so  disposed,  console  himself  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  too  many  of  his  colleagues  failed  to  reach  the 
average  requirement  for  a  good  legislator! 

One  of  the  most  popular  members  of  that  session  w^as 
James  E.  Blundell,  of  Douglas  County.  He  was  a  very 
small  man  physically,  probably  not  weighing  more  than 
ninety  pounds,  but  he  w-as  exceedingly  witty  and  always 
commanded  the  attention  of  the  House  when  addressing 
the  Chair. 

One  afternoon  Bow-ditch,  of  Jackson,  grew^  somewhat 
belligerent  in  a  debate  he  had  precipitated  with  a  fellow 
member  regarding  a  bill  that  appeared  to  have  been  lost 
in  some  committee  shuffle,  and  had  received  a  retort 
which  greatly  angered  him.  To  this  he  replied  with 
vigor,  and  as  he  appeared  to  be  making  a  hostile  demon- 
stration tow^ard  the  accused  committeeman,  there  was  a 
great  uproar  in  the  House.  The  Speaker  had  begun  to 
exercise  his  authority  to  preserve  order,  when  Blundell 
arose  and,  standing  almost  by  the  side  of  Bowditch.  who 
was  a  two-hundred  pounder,  said  in  his  peculiar  piping 
voice : 

"Mr.  Speaker,  I  will  undertake  to  preserve  order  on 
the  floor  of  the  House  in  my  immediate  vicinity,  and  I 
hereby  notify  the  gentleman  from  Jackson  that  if  he 
doesn't  promptly  resume  his  seat  and  govern  that  temper 
of  his.  I  will  hold  him  personally  responsible." 


FIFTY   ^"EARS   IX  OREGON  345 

As  he  said  this  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  Jackson  County 
member,  and  his  attitude,  together  with  the  delicious 
absurdity  of  his  remark, — his  head  scarcely  reached 
above  his  desk. — created  a  roar  of  laughter  that  lasted 
for  several  minutes.  But  good  feeling  was  restored  and 
Bowditch  himself  enjoyed  the  episode  as  well  as  his 
fellow-members. 

Blundell  ser\ed  four  terms  altogether  from  Douglas 
County,  being  a  memi)er  in  1887,  1889,  ^'^9^  ^"^l  ^^95- 
On  the  last  night  of  the  session  of  '89.  an  hour  before 
adjournment,  there  was  no  business  to  attend  to  and  the 
members,  with  the  permission  of  the  Speaker,  devoted 
themselves  to  all  sorts  of  recreation  not  known  to  parlia- 
mentary law.  Colonel  Robert  A.  Miller  was  in  die 
chair  and  Roberts,  of  Coos,  had  introduced  a  resolutic^n 
ousting  him  from  his  position  on  account  of  an  arbitrary 
ruling.  Miller  put  the  motion  on  the  adoption  of  the 
resolution  and,  though  it  received  a  unanimous  vote  of 
approval,  declared  it  lost. 

At  this  juncture,  when  all  was  in  an  amusing  disorder, 
Blundell  climbed  into  his  chair  and  from  it  to  the  top 
of  his  desk,  from  which  vantage  point  he  shouted  in 
tones  which  were  heard  above  the  general  din,  striking 
the  open  palm  of  his  left  hand  vigorously  with  the 
clenched  fist  of  his  right,  the  while: 

"Gentlemen,  I  do  not  propose  to  shirk  the  duty  w  hich 
rests  upon  me  as  a  representative  of  the  people  of 
Douglas  County  by  submitting  to  the  tyranny  of  the  gen- 
tleman from  Jackson,  wdio  happens  for  the  moment  to 
be  the  presiding  officer  of  this  House.  If  any  one  other 
member  will  follow  my  lead,  I  will  take  the  gentleman 
from  the  chair  by  force  and — " 

At  this  point.  McCoy,  of  Wasco,  a  giant  in  stature. 
took  Blundell  around  the  waist  with  his  right  arm  and, 
with  his  legs  kicking  wildly  in  the  air,  carried  him  down 
the  aisle  and  into  the  main  lobby  of  the  Capitol. 

Probably  a  more  side-splitting  incident  never  occurred 
during  a  legislative  session  in  any  State  than  that.  In  a 
short  time  Blundell  and  McCoy  returned  to  their  seats, 


346  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

arm  in  arm.  order  was  restored,  Speaker  Smith  took  the 
chair  and  the  important  business  of  the  State  was  resumed 
in  a  serious  manner.  "xMl  work  and  no  play  makes 
Jack,"  etc. 

Poor  "Ji"iiT^y  Bkindell"  w^as  afihcted  with  asthmatic 
trouble  but  his  countenance  was  always  cheerful,  as  was 
his  heart.  He  was  a  school-teacher  by  profession  and 
occupation.  When  his  distressing  ailment  finally  proved 
fatal,  the  announcement  of  his  death  carried  a  feeling  of 
regret  to  every  part  of  the  State. 

John  B.  Waldo,  a  member  from  Marion  County,  was 
the  youngest  son  of  Daniel  Waldo,  the  noted  pioneer  of 
1843,  ^"*i  ^"i^d  but  recently  completed  a  full  term  of  six 
years  on  the  State  Supreme  Bench.  He  was  a  very 
reserved  man  in  his  manner,  though  exceedingly  hos- 
pitable in  his  home.  He  was  a  close  student  all  his  life 
and  alinost  lived  in  and  with  his  books.  Every  summer 
for  twenty  years  before  his  death  he  invited  a  few  friends 
to  accompany  him  into  the  Cascade  Mountains  on  an 
extended  camping  trip,  usually  lasting  for  two  months. 
It  was  his  custom  to  go  into  the  mountains  with  his  pack 
train  of  a  few  horses  and.  without  following  trails,  pro- 
ceed to  the  summit,  after  which  he  would  pursue  the 
backbone  of  the  range  well  southward  toward  the  Cali- 
fornia line.  He  was  an  expert  botanist  and  was  perhaps 
more  familiar  with  the  flora  of  Oregon  than  any  other 
man  has  been. 

The  likes  and  dislikes  of  Judge  Waldo  were  very 
deeply  rooted.  I  recall  that  as  the  session  of  1889  '^^'^^ 
drawing  to  a  close  a  local  photographer  asked  me  to  see 
him  and  request  him  to  sit  for  a  picture.  He  explained 
that  he  was  making  a  group  photograph  of  all  the  mem- 
bers of  both  Houses  and  had  secured  sittings  from  all 
the  members  save  Judge  Waldo.  When,  as  requested,  I 
told  the  Judge  what  was  wanted,  like  a  flash,  he  in- 
quired : 

"Is  Joe  Simon's  picture  going  to  be  in  the  group?" 

"Yes,  I  presume  so."  I  replied,  "as  he  is  the  president 
of  the  Senate.    Why?" 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  347 

"Well,"  replied  the  Judge,  "I  won't  have  my  picture 
alongside  of  Joe  Simon's." 

And  he  did  not  call  at  the  photographer's.  That 
enterprising  individual,  however,  succeeded  in  securing 
an  old  picture  somewhere  and  his  group  contained  pho- 
tographs of  all  the  members  of  both  Houses. 

The  jjitterness  of  Waldo  against  Simon  was  due  to 
the  impression  he  had  received  that  the  latter  had  been 
instrumental  in  his  defeat  as  Supreme  Judge  when  a 
candidate  for  re-election  in  1886.  His  death  occurred 
at  his  farm  in  the  Waldo  Hills  three  years  ago.  He  was 
a  man  of  the  strictest  integrity  and  held  in  the  highest 
esteem  by  his  acquaintances  everywhere. 

One  of  my  colleagues  from  Marion  County  in  the 
sessions  of  1889,  and  again  in  1893,  was  Samuel  Lay- 
man, of  Woodburn.  He  was  a  successful  farmer  and  an 
intelligent  Representative,  but  he  coulil  not  address  a 
public  meeting  without  being  lost  in  an  overwhelming 
wave  of  embarrassment.  It  was  the  custom  in  those 
days  for  the  candidates  of  the  opposing  parties  to  visit 
every  part  of  the  county  and  hold  joint  debates,  the 
"remarks"  of  each  candidate  being  restricted  to  a  limited 
time.  This  part  of  the  program  Layman  always  endeav- 
ored to  avoid,  but  in  order  to  gain  votes  he  found  it 
necessary  to  make  the  rounds,  and  he  was  invarial)ly 
called  upon  by  some  man  in  the  audience,  though  his 
associates  had  agreed  to  let  him  off.  In  the  two  cam- 
paigns I  made  with  Layman  he  made  perhaps  forty 
speeches,  and  these  were  the  identical  words  he  used 
every  time : 

"Fellow-citizens,  I  am  not  a  pulilic  speaker,  but  am 
a  farmer  down  on  French  Prairie.  If  elected  to  the 
Legislature,  I  promise  you  that  I  will  oppose  all  the  bad 
bills  and  favor  all  the  good  ones.  I  hope  you  will  \ote 
for  me." 

This  always  provoked  laughter  from  the  audience  and, 
inexpressibly  confused.  Layman  would  seek  his  seat. 
However,  it  is  plain  that  if  he  had  spoken  for  two  hours 
he  could  have  said  nothing  better  than  this — and  might 


348  FIFTY  ^'FARS  IN  ORFGON 

have  said  too  much,  as  die  rest  of  us  frequently  did. 
And,  besides,  Layman  always  received  more  votes  than 
any  other  man  on  the  ticket — as  he  deserved  to. 

Another  influential  member  in  the  session  of  1889 
was  Captain  John  T.  Apperson,  of  Clackamas  County. 
Captain  Apperson  had  for  a  long  term  of  years  oeen  a 
steamboat  pilot  on  the  Willamette  River  and  had  served 
in  the  State  Senate  during-  the  sessions  of  1878  and  1880. 
For  about  twenty  years  he  was  president  of  the  Board 
of  Trustees  of  the  Oregon  Agricultural  College  and  is 
now  a  member  of  that  body.  He  has  been  a  tower  of 
strength  to  that  very  deserving  and  useful  educational 
institution,  and  has  attended  all  its  meetings  during  his 
long  tenure  of  ofifice  on  the  Board. 

A  resolution  had  been  adopted  during  the  last  week 
of  the  '89  session  providing  for  adjournment  on  a  Friday 
night  at  midnight.  A  few  minutes  before  this  hour 
arrived  Speaker  Smith  had  called  Captain  Apperson  to 
the  chair  and  was  absent  v/hen  the  clock  pointed  to  the 
hour  of  twelve.  Five  minutes  before  this  the  House 
had  called  upon  H.  H.  Northup  to  make  a  short  address 
on  the  eve  of  our  separation,  to  which  he  had  responded. 
Judge  Northup,  who  is  a  splendid  speaker,  especially 
upon  an  occasion  of  that  character,  was  narrating  a  very 
pathetic  incident  which  occurred  on  one  of  the  battle- 
fields of  the  Civil  War.  relating  to  the  wounding  of  a 
drummer  boy,  when  Captain  Apperson  called  his  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  hour  for  adjournment  had 
arrived.  A  request  went  up  from  all  over  the  House 
for  him  to  finish  his  story,  to  do  which,  he  replied  in 
answer  to  a  query,  would  take  but  two  minutes ;  but 
Captain  Apperson  said  the  resolution  called  for  adjourn- 
ment at  midnight. 

'T  have  no  discretion  in  the  matter,  gentlemen,"  said 
he.  "Your  resolution  .says  we  shall  adjourn  at  twelve 
o'clock,  and  you  can  see,"  glancing  at  the  clock  on  the 
wall  back  of  the  Speaker's  desk,  "that  it  is  now  one 
minute  past  that  time." 

And  Judge  Northrup's  story  was  never  finished — all 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  349 

because  Captain  Appurson  had  for  twenty  years  been  a 
river  pilot,  where  an  order  was  an  order,  where  punct- 
uality meant  being  punctual,  and  where  there  Avas  no 
dallying  with  the  dictum  of  one  man  whose  conclusion 
was  the  law. 
And  the  House  stood  aghast — also,  adjourned. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

When  the  legislative  session  of  1891  met  in  January 
of  that  year  I  was  a  candidate  for  Speaker  of  the  House, 
and  after  a  little  preliminary  skirmish,  which  involved 
more  or  less  of  communication  with  members  from 
other  parts  of  the  State  during  the  preceding  month  or 
two,  I  was  successful.  There  were  but  two  other  aspir- 
ants, H.  B.  Miller,  of  Josephine,  and  George  L.  Story, 
of  Multnomah.  Mr.  Miller  had  represented  his  county 
in  the  State  Senate,  where  he  had  made  a  splendid  record 
as  a  hard  and  efficient  worker,  but  a  week  before  the 
session  convened  he  announced  that  he  had  no  desire  to 
be  Speaker.  Mr.  Story  had  been  a  member  of  the  House 
in  1885,  serving  with  distinction,  and  was  one  of  the 
very  earliest  settlers  in  the  city  of  Portland.  He  did  not 
make  a  very  actix'C  campaign  for  the  Speakership,  how- 
ever, and  there  were  few  obstacles  in  the  way  of  my 
success.  R.  R.  Hays,  of  Tillamook,  was  chosen  chief 
clerk,  Frank  Davey  assistant  clerk,  and  Glenn  O.  Hoi  man 
reading  clerk. 

This  session  of  the  Oregon  Legislature  may  be  said 
to  have  been  characterized  by  an  "era  of  good  feeling." 
There  was  not  much  demand  for  general  legislation  and 
the  "political  pot,"  which  in  this  State  has  boiled  with  a 
good,  old-fashioned  boil  for  fifty  years  almost  without 
intermission,  was  actually  enjoying  the  experience  of  a 
perfect  rest  for  the  first  time.  The  "fight  against 
Mitchell"  which  had  known  no  cessation  since  his  advent 
to  the  State  in  t86o,  had  been  abandoned  and,  though 
his  second  term  in  the  United  States  Senate  was  termi- 
nating and  he  v;as  a  candidate  for  re-election,  he  re- 
ceived every  vote  in  the  Republican  caucus,  which  was 
attended  by  every  Republican  member  of  both  Houses, 

350 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  351 

and  received  every  Republican  vote  in  the  joint  conven- 
tion— and  all  the  members  were  present. 

Mitchell  was  a  candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate 
in  1866,  but  lacked  one  vote  of  securing  the  caucus  nomi- 
nation. There  were  no  more  Republican  Legislatures 
until  1872,  when  he  was  again  a  candidate  for  Senator 
and,  after  a  strong  combination  against  him  had  been 
overcome,  a  successful  one.  At  the  end  of  his  term  the 
Legislature  was  again  Democratic  and  he  was  retired  in 
favor  of  James  LI.  Slater.  In  1882  there  was  another 
Senator  to  elect  and  a  Republican  Legislature  chosen  to 
perform  that  duty.  Mitchell  was  an  active  candidate  for 
the  position,  but  after  a  struggle,  which  lasted  until  the 
very  last  moments  of  the  session,  Joseph  N.  Dolph, 
Mitchell's  law  partner,  was  elected. 

The  principal  objection  to  IVIitchell  among  those  Re- 
publican members  who  opposed  him  was  that  he  was  a 
"corporation  lawyer,"  and  the  fact  that  his  partner  was 
finally  selected  was  held  to  be  one  of  the  instances  of 
political  inconsistency  frequently  encountered  along  the 
highway  of  caucuses  and  conventions.  Upon  his  return 
to  Portland  after  his  defeat  he  received  a  tremendous 
ovation  from  the  thousands  of  men  who  had  assembled 
on  the  streets,  while  the  successful  candidate  received, 
by  comparison,  no  welcome  whatever. 

The  Legislature  of  1885  was  confronted  wdth  the  duty 
of  electing  a  Senator,  and  Solomon  Hirsch,  of  Portland, 
received  the  Republican  caucus  nomination.  There  was 
a  defection,  however,  of  eighteen  members,  who  refused 
to  be  bound  by  the  caucus  action  and  were  able  to  pre- 
vent an  election.  The  struggle  was  continued  until  the  last 
minute  of  the  constitutional  duration  of  a  legislative 
session  and  an  adjournment  was  had  without  an  election. 
In  the  following  October  Governor  Moody  called  a 
special  session  of  the  Legislature  for  the  purpose  of 
electing  a  Senator  and  Mitchell  was  again  a  candidate. 
The  fight  which  was  made  upon  him  at  this  time  was  one 
of  the  fiercest  known  to  Oregon  politics.  It  was  led  by 
the  Oregonian  and  nothing  was  left  unsaid  or  unprinted 


1,^2  FIFTY  YEARS  TN  OREGON 

which  it  was  Uiought  would  contribute  to  Mitchell's 
defeat.  The  attack  was  directly  personal  and  Mitchell 
was  charg^ed  with  all  the  sins  of  omission  and  commission 
known  to  the  calendar  of  moral  and  personal  delin- 
quencies. Proof  of  the  truthfulness  of  the  charges  was 
offered — indeed,  was  published — and  challenges  to  insti- 
tute a  suit  for  libel  were  printed  daily  in  black-faced 
type,  but  Mitchell,  like  Cuffey,  "des  kep'  on  sayin' 
nuffin'."  After  a  short  session  of  this  character,  although 
it  seemed  a  long  one.  a  sufficient  number  of  Democrats 
came  to  Mitchell's  support  to  give  him  the  necessary 
forty-six  votes  and  he  w^as  elected. 

Considering  the  nature  of  this  furious  onslaught  in 
1885  against  Mitchell  it  was  a  matter  of  surprise,  and  of 
rejoicing,  that  at  the  end  of  his  term  there  was  no  oppo- 
sition to  his  re-election  in  any  quarter.  All  was  peace 
and  Mitchell  must  ha\'e  thought  the  millennium  at  hand. 
But  it  was  only  a  lull  in  the  cyclone  which  usually  focused 
around  the  political  hea(lf(uartcrs  where  John  H.  Mitchell 
was  the  central  figure. — as  later  Oregon  history  abun- 
dantly show^s. 

Tt  was  during  the  session  of  1891  that  I  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  H.  B.  Miller,  member  from  Josephine 
County.  He  was  a  ])rominent  contractor  in  southern 
Oregon  and  had  much  to  do  with  the  construction  of 
railroad  bridges.  Fie  was  also  extensively  engaged  in 
horticultural  pursuits,  as  well  as  manufacturing  enter- 
])rises  in  Josephine  County. 

He  had  a  well-developed  ambition  to  go  to  Congress 
and  had  his  eye  on  any  old  thing  that  promised  to  assist 
in  preventing  the  re-election  of  Binger  Hermann.  At 
that  time  Hermann  had  acquired  the  fixed  habit  of  going 
to  Congress  every  two  years,  which  was  naturally  dis- 
couraging to  a  few  other  men  who  were  aml^itious  to 
serve  the  people's  interests  at  Washington.  y\mong 
these  very  deserving  aspirants  was  H.  B.  Miller.  In 
those  years  Oregon  had  but  one  member  of  Congress, 
and  since  it  began  to  look  as  though  Hermann,  with  his 
perfect  health  and  convincing  handshake,  would  live  as 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  353 

long  as  anybody  else  and  stay  in  Congress  as  long  as  he 
lived,  there  seemed  little  chance  for  any  other  man  to 
acquire  the  privilege  of  sending  garden  seeds  to  the 
farmers  of  the  State, — unless,  indeed,  something  out  of 
the  ordinary  should  happen. 

But  Miller  and  I  decided  that  Hermann  could  be  dis- 
placed if  only  the  proper  steps  were  taken.  Others  were 
admitted  to  our  councils,  and  it  was  finally  decided  that 
if  about  five  of  us,  living  in  different  parts  of  the  State, 
should  become  candidates  for  the  nomination,  the  com- 
bined strength  of  the  opposition  would  throw  Hermann 
in  a  minority,  and  after  that  had  been  accomplished  it 
would  not  be  difficult  for  us  to  unite  on  the  man  who 
should  represent  us. 

It  was  a  good  scheme,  its  only  fault  being  that  it  didn't 
work  out  so  well  when  put  to  the  actual  test  as  it  did  in 
our  private  consultations.  When  the  session  of  1891 
adjourned  there  was  a  well-arranged  understanding  be- 
tween Miller  and  myself  that  before  the  campaign  of  '92 
opened  we  would  have  a  scheme  perfected  which  would 
result  in  placing  Hermann  on  the  shelf.  We  felt  sure  it 
could  be  done  with  proper  management,  and  that  we 
were  in  position  to  carry  it  to  a  successful  termination. 

I  saw  Miller  at  intervals  during  the  following  summer 
and  fall,  and  each  time  we  added  minor  details  to  our 
campaign.  He  said  it  looked  good  to  him  in  southern 
Oregon,  and  that  he  was  certain  he  could  come  to  the 
convention  with  several  counties  hitherto  solid  for  Her- 
mann in  his  pocket. 

In  January,  1892,  we  met  by  appointment  in  Portland 
to  complete  the  plan  of  our  attack.  A  few  flank  move- 
ments were  decided  upon  and  our  lieutenants  selected. 
We  separated  with  a  promise  by  Miller  that  some  time 
within  a  month  he  would  write  me  a  letter  which  would 
give  further  details  as  to  the  southern  Oregon  situation, 
for  Hermann  must  first  be  shaken  in  his  own  section, 
and  Miller,  because  of  his  prominence,  and  coming  from 
that  part  of  the  State,  was  going  to  be  the  most  for- 
midable man  in  the  combine. 


354  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

I  returned  to  the  farm  and  resumed  my  plowing  and 
sowing,  expecting  to  hear  from  JMiller  at  any  time.  The 
spring  oats  were  sown,  the  orchard  pruned  and  yet  noth- 
ing from  ]\Iiller.  I  knew  he  was  busy  preparing  for  the 
solar  plexus  blow  that  was  to  give  us  a  different  Congress- 
man, but  finally,  thinking  that  valuable  time  was  being 
wasted — I  had  some  things  of  my  own  to  do  if  I  was  to 
get  seriously  into  the  contest — and  concluding  that  by 
that  time  ]\Tiller  had  surely  laid  the  foundation  for  the 
fight  good  and  strong,  I  wrote  him  a  letter.  He  had 
promised  to  let  me  know  and  had  not  done  it.  I  was 
anxious  to  hear  the  details  of  his  inroads  into  the  Her- 
mann ranks,  so  sent  him  the  following: 

Macleav,  Oregon,  March  lO,  1892. 
Hon.  H.  B.  Miller, 

Grant's  Pass,  Or. : 
My  Dear  Miller : 
Well  ? 

Sincerely  yours, 

Geer. 

Three  days  afterward  I  received  the  follow- ing  lucid 
answer  to  my  letter,  which  constituted  an  exhaustive 
explanation  of  the  political  situation  in  southern  Oregon, 
as  far  as  Miller  had  succeeded  in  causing  a  defection  in 
the  Hermann  ranks : 

Grant's  Pass,  Oregon,  March  13,  1892. 

Hon.  T.  T.  Geer, 

Macleay,  Or.: 
My  Dear  Mr.  Geer: 

I  was  delighted  to  hear  that  you  are  "well."    Good 
health  is  a  great  blessing. 

Truly  yours,  Miller. 

It  was  not  the  kind  of  letter  w'lich  called  for  an  imme- 
diate answer.  It  spoke  volumes  and  breathed  such  a 
deep  appreciation  of  my  prime  physical  condition  that  I 
was  wholly  overcome,  I  at  once  counted  myself  out  of 
the  Congressional  race — I  didn't  wait  for  others  to  do 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  355 

so — and  was  not  at  all  surprised  when  the  Republican 
State  Convention  assenibled  along  in  April  to  read  that  it 
had  re-nominated  Hon.  Dinger  Hermann,  of  Douglas 
County,  for  Congress  "without  serious  opposition." 

One  of  the  important  acts  of  the  session  of  '91  was 
the  creation  of  the  office  of  Attorney  General.  Attempts 
to  do  so  had  been  made  prior  to  that  date,  but  there  was 
general  opposition  to  the  establishment  of  new  offices 
and  they  failed.  That  there  was  need  for  such  adviser 
to  the  State  officials  there  could  be  no  doubt,  so  provision 
was  made  for  the  new  official  to  be  appointed  by  the 
Governor,  to  hold  until  the  next  general  election.  Accord- 
ingly, Governor  Pennoyer  named  George  E.  Chamber- 
lain, of  Linn  County,  who  was  nominated  by  the  Demo- 
crats for  the  same  position  in  1892,  and,  according  to 
the  Chamberlain  custom,  was  successful  at  the  polls, 
defeating  L.  R.  Webster,  Republican. 

There  were  many  new  members  in  the  House  in  1891, 
though  there  were  several  who  had  had  wide  experience  in 
legislative  matters  and  who  afterward  became  promi- 
nent in  State  affairs.  There  was  much  to  enliven  the 
ordinary  trend  of  legislative  proceedings  and,  as  is 
usually  the  case,  a  humorous  reply  or  statement  often 
came  at  the  most  unexpected  times. 

One  day  the  House  was  considering  a  proposed  bill 
on  assessment  in  Committee  of  the  Whole.  The  Com- 
mittee on  Assessment  had  undertaken  to  revise  the  entire 
system  of  taxation — a  proposition  which  always  appeals 
to  the  aspiring  legislator  as  a  means  not  only  of  immor- 
talizing his  own  name,  but  of  contributing  to  the  wel- 
fare of  the  masses.  For  a  full  hundred  years  this  work 
of  drafting  an  assessment  law  that  will  make  all  taxation 
"equal"  has  been  prosecuted  in  our  older  States  and 
there  is  the  same  complaint  of  the  injustice  of  the  pre- 
vailing system,  no  matter  what  it  is,  that  characterized 
the  unrest  of  the  people  at  the  beginning. 

But  we  were  in  the  midst  of  considering  the  new  bill 
on  taxation,  as  reported  by  the  committee,  by  sections. 


356  FIFTY  YEARS  TN  OREGON 

We  had  reached  a  section  which  provided  for  the  taxa- 
tion of  watches,  when  Hohnes,  of  Marion,  a  Democrat 
who  had  managed  to  be  elected  by  a  margin  of  six  votes 
in  that  strongly  Republican  county,  arose  and  said : 

"Mr.  Chairman,  in  these  times  a  watch  has  become  an 
article  of  necessity  and  not  one  of  luxury,  as  was  for- 
merly the  case.  Everybody  now,  even  the  poor  man, 
carries  a  watch  and  I  move  that  this  section  be  stricken 
out  in  the  interest  of  the  common  people." 

Before  the  chairman  could  put  the  question  Starr,  of 
Benton,  a  man  who  had  not  been  on  his  feet  before 
during  the  entire  session,  asked  for  recog^iition  and 
said: 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  am  opposed  to  striking  out  this 
section.  Just  a  few  minutes  ago  we  adopted  anothei 
section  which  taxes  horses,  and  I  object  to  taxing  horses 
and  exempting  watches,  for  hundreds  of  times  I  have 
seen  young  fellows  on  the  Long  Tom  riding  four-dollar 
cayuses  and  carrying  forty-dollar  watches!" 

After  which  Holmes'  proposed  amendment  didn't  have 
a  "look  in." 

Glenn  Holman  was  the  reading  clerk  for  the  session 
of  '91,  as  indeed  he  had  been  for  many  sessions  before, 
and  he  had  a  most  remarkable  memory  as  well  as  a 
splendid  voice  for  that  purpose.  That  was  before  the 
day  of  the  typewriter,  and  as  all  the  bills  and  resolu- 
tions were  written  in  long  hand,  and  usually  by  their 
authors,  samples  of  handwriting  drifted  up  to  the  clerk's 
desk  that  would  often  put  a  crimp  in  that  officer's 
tongue.  But  Holman  could  read  anything  that  even 
looked  like  writing  and  get  away  with  it  in  pretty  good 
shape.  He  never  stalled.  Tf  he  came  to  an  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  a  sprawl  across  the  paper,  he  named  it  and 
went  on  without  any  hesitation  whatever.  It  was  one  of 
his  boasts  that  he  had  never  yet  found  a  specimen  of 
writing  that  he  could  not  decipher  with  ease. 

One  day  a  member  who  intended  to  introduce  a  bill  to 
prohibit  the  killing  of  certain  kinds  of  pheasants,  except 
at  stated  times  of  the  vear.  handed  it  to  me  in  advance 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  35; 

to  get  my  opinion  of  it.  One  section  was  something  likt 
this:  "It  shall  be  unlawful  to  kill  or  have  in  possession, 
except  as  otherwise  hereinafter  provided,  any  ring- 
necked  pheasant,  silver  pheasant,  golden  pheasant,  copper 
pheasant,  green  Japanese  pheasant.  Reeves  pheasant, 
scholmeringu  pheasant,  etc." 

In  this  last  word  I  saw  an  opportunity  to  have  some 
fun  out  of  Holman  and  asked  the  member  to  let  me 
write  his  bill,  telling  him  my  purpose.  I  wanted  to  write 
that  word  "scholmeringu"  in  such  a  way  that  Holman 
would  be  bafifled.  The  bill  had  but  two  or  three  sec- 
tions and  it  was  soon  done.  I  had  let  a  dozen  members 
into  the  joke  and  they  were  ready  for  a  laugh  on  Holman. 
As  soon  as  the  Ftouse  was  called  to  order  the  bill  was 
introduced.  With  his  customary  assurance,  the  reading 
clerk  began  to  declare  its  provisions  to  the  members  in 
ringing  tones  which  reached  every  part  of  the  chamber. 
I  had  written  the  word  "scholmeringu"  in  such  a  way 
that  it  spelled  nothing  whatever,  only  the  first  three 
letters  being  decipherable  at  all.  After  their  formation 
the  word  flattened  out  into  a  meaningless  scrawl.  And 
here  is  the  way  Holman  read  it,  while  the  House  listened 
and  watched  to  see  him  forced  to  admit  his  defeat:  "It 
shall  be  unlawful  to  kill  or  have  in  possession,  except  as 
otherwise  hereinafter  provided,  any  ring-necked  pheas- 
ant, silver  pheasant,  golden  pheasant,  copper  pheasant, 
green  Japanese  pheasant,  Reeves  pheasant  or — any  other 
kind  of  pheasant,"  and  he  went  right  on  with  a  broad 
smile  on  his  face  while  the  House  indulged  a  round  of 
laughter  at  my  failure  to  trap  the  versatile  translator  of 
duck  tracks,  et  al. 

Holman  had  a  wonderful  memory  for  names,  and 
after  calling  the  roll  of  sixty  members  a  half-dozen  times 
could  easily  dispense  permanently  with  the  printed  form. 
He  was  at  the  reading  clerk's  desk  in  the  House  sessions 
of  '80,  '89,  '91  and  '93.  One  day  toward  the  last  of  the 
session  of  '93  he  was  calling  the  roll  for  about  the 
thousandth  time,  perfunctorily,  as  the  proceedings  w-ere 
very  uninteresting,  when  he  came  to  the  name  of  Merritt, 


358  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

of  Jackson  County,  who  had  been  a  member  during  the 
preceding  session.  When  Hohnan  came  to  his  name 
that  day  he  unconsciously  switched  from  the  roll-call  of 
93  to  tliat  of  '91  and  followed  Alerritt's  name  with  those 
who  succeeded  his  in  the  session  of  two  years  before. 
The  "break"  was  not  noticed  until  some  of  the  members 
were  astonished  to  hear  names  of  men  called  who  had 
gone  down  to  defeat,  and  some  even  were  dead.  After 
adjournment,  in  commenting  upon  the  incident,  Holman 
repeated,  from  memory,  the  roll-call  of  '91  without  hesi- 
tation, and  even  repeated  that  of  1880,  thirteen  years 
before,  with  but  a  few  mistakes. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  session  of  '91  the  members 
began  to  show  their  impatience  at  any  move  which  con- 
sumed time.  This,  however,  is  not  unusual.  At  the 
beginning  of  a  session  there  ai)pears  to  be  "all  kinds  of 
time"  in  which  to  transact  the  business  before  the  Legis- 
lature and  a  motion  to  adjourn  will  always  carry.  The 
first  three  weeks  of  an  Oregon  session,  which  is  constitu- 
tionally limited  to  forty  days,  it  is  customary  to  adjourn 
on  each  Thursday  and  proceed  to  Portland,  not  to  return 
to  Salem  until  the  following  Sunday  night,  or  perhaps 
not  until  Monday  morning.  But  when  half  the  session 
is  gone  and  members  begin  to  discover  that  many  of 
their  bills  are  yet  "in  committee."  and  that  there  is 
danger  of  their  being  lost  altogether,  an  awakening 
always  takes  place  and  the  great  majority  are  willing  to 
adjourn  only  for  the  time  necessary  for  meals. 

Although  wlien  the  House  adjourned  sine  die  in  '91, 
every  bill  had  been  disposed  of  and  we  had  two  hours 
to  spare,  there  was'  much  uneasiness  during  the  last 
three  dnys  concerning  the  fate  of  several  measures.  The 
Ministerial  Union  of  Salem  had  provide*!  a  minister  to  be 
present  excrv  mc^rning  to  opcti  the  ses!-ions  with  i-'rayer. 
This  had  .ilwavs  l)een  customary  and  it  is  a  very  fitting 
beginnin;-  <>\  li;e  day's  A\ork.  There  were  several  mem- 
bers who  had  ])rivatelv  asked  me  to  abandon  the  custom 
during  the  last  Aveek,  in  the  interest  of  some  of  the  belated 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  359 

measures,  but  I  had  assured  them  that  we  would  "clean 
up"  the  calendar,  and  that  it  would  not  look  well  to  reject 
the  offers  of  the  ministers  to  intercede  for  us  at  the 
Throne  of  Grace,  since  we  probably  stood  in  need  of  all 
the  assistance  we  could  get,  both  here  and  hereafter.  I 
remember  that  Garfield,  of  Coos,  was  especially  opposed 
to  "wasting  the  time  of  the  House  in  needless  prayers." 

However,  on  the  morning  of  the  last  day  there  had 
been  so  many  importunities  from  members  to  dispense 
with  the  morning  prayer  that  when  Rev.  Robert  Whit- 
aker,  of  the  Baptist  Church,  stood  by  my  side  I  whispered 
to  him  while  the  House  was  coming  to  order,  "Cut  it 
short,"  for  much  of  the  complaint  had  been  at  the  length 
of  some  of  the  prayers— which,  indeed,  were  needlessly 
long.  I  knew  Whitaker  well,  and  as  he  was  a  very  witty 
man  both  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit,  I  felt  perfectly  free 
to  ask  him  to  "cut  it  short."  He  was  very  obedient  to 
my  suggestion,  for  here  is  his  prayer,  verbatim :  "Oh, 
Lord,  we  pray  Thee  to  keep  us  from  all  evil  throughout 
this  day.     We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.     Amen." 

To  say  that  the  House  was  pleased  would  be  to  put  it 
very  mildly.  Smiles  were  in  evidence  over  the  chamber, 
e\-en  some  clapping  of  hands.  Holman  passed  a  hat  among 
the  members  and  secured  for  the  considerate  preacher 
five  dollars,  which  was  given  him  at  the  door  when  he 
passed  out  three  minutes  later.  It  was  a  signal  triumph 
of  the  art  of  condensation,  for  he  might  have  extended 
his  prayer  ten  minutes  longer,  as  some  of  the  preachers 
did,  without  adding  anything  to  the  effectiveness  of  his 
appeal. 

At  that  time  Rev.  Whitaker  could  have  had  any  posi- 
tion within  the  gift  of  the  Legislature  for  the  asking. 


CHAPTER  XLVTII 

During  the  progress  of  the  legislative  session  of  1891 
it  became  known  that  in  the  spring  President  Harrison 
would  A'isit  the  Pacific  Coast,  including  Oregon,  and 
before  adjournment  a  joint  committee  w^as  appointed  to 
meet  him  and  his  party  at  the  State  line  and  to  take 
charge  of  their  itinerary  while  they  remained  among  our 
people.  Accordingly,  the  committee,  consisting  of  three 
members  of  the  Senate  and  five  from  the  House,  includ- 
ing President  Simon  of  the  Senate  and  myself,  went  to 
Ashland  on  May  5  to  meet  the  Presidential  party,  which 
arrived  there  at  four  o'clock.  The  weather  had  been 
quite  dry  for  the  preceding  month,  but  at  noon  of  that 
day  a  threatening  haze  overspread  the  sky  and  ten  min- 
utes before  the  train  arrived  there  was  a  heavy  fall  of 
rain.  This  developed  into  a  steady  downpour,  and  by 
the  time  the  President  ap])eared  before  the  great  audience 
to  make  his  address  there  was  a  general  scurrying  for 
awnings,  doorways  and  anything  else  that  offered  pro- 
tection. It  was  thought  to  be  only  a  passing  shower,  but 
it  proved  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  three-days'  rain  which 
has  rarely,  if  ever,  been  equalled  in  Oregon  during  the 
month  of  May.  At  Grant's  Pass  the  people  had  pre- 
pared a  huge  bonfire,  and  when  the  train  arrived  at  nine 
o'clock  a  large  audience  had  congregated  to  greet  the 
President,  sheltered  by  umbrellas  and  kept  busy  endeav- 
oring to  preserve  the  life  of  the  flames  against  the  furious 
onslaught  of  Jupiter  Pluvius. 

The  Presidential  train  was  scheduled  to  arrive  at 
Eugene  the  next  morning  at  six  o'clock,  and  the  people 
of  that  enterprising  town  had  made  great  preparation  to 
give  their  distinguished  guests  a  m.agnificent  reception. 
Several  men  had  been  sent  the  day  before  up  the  Mc- 
Kenzie  River  to  catch  a  basket  of  mountain  trout  to 

360 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  361 

present  to  the  President.  When  the  train  arrived,  which  it 
did  on  schedule  time,  there  were  Hterally  acres  of  people 
assembled  to  welcome  the  nation's  Chief  Magistrate. 
When  I  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  car  window,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  saw  more  people  than  I  supposed 
were  living  in  all  of  Lane  County.  After  all.  however, 
whether  there  were  any  people  at  all  was  a  mere  matter 
of  conjecture,  since  there  was  only  an  unbroken  sea  of 
umbrellas  in  sight.  It  was  raining  so  steadily  and  vigor- 
ously that  one  might  suppose  it  to  be  the  middle  of  No- 
vember. There  were  miniature  lakes  of  water  every- 
where, but  all  this  did  not  daunt  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
men  and  women — and  children — of  Eugene.  Nothing 
ever  does. 

As  soon  as  the  President's  train  came  to  a  stop  there 
were  loud  calls  for  "The  President,"  "Harrison,"  etc., 
but  there  was  no  response.  Finally  his  secretary  ap- 
peared on  the  rear  platform  and  bowed  to  the  people, 
while  the  anxious  committee  having  in  charge  the  large 
basket  of  McKenzie  trout,  handsomely  packed  in  ice  and 
decorated  with  beautiful  flowers,  handed  it  to  the  secre- 
tary, with  the  compliments  of  the  people  of  Eugene.  He 
graciously  received  them  in  the  name  of  the  President, 
and  retired  within  the  car. 

The  people  standing  in  torrents  of  falling  water  con- 
tinued to  call  for  the  President.  After  a  delay  of  per- 
haps five  minutes  his  secretary  again  appeared  and  an- 
nounced that  upon  retiring  the  night  before  he  had  given 
orders  not  to  be  molested  until  just  before  reaching 
Salem,  toward  noon.  He  was  very  tired,  he  said,  and 
needed  rest. 

Upon  this  turn  of  affairs  the  people  gave  vigorous 
utterance  to  their  disappointment,  which  finally  turned 
into  disgust  and  anger.  The  train  pulled  out  soon  after, 
amid  exclamations  that  were  not  especially  laudatory  of 
the  President,  and  some  of  which  would  not  look  well 
in  print!  And  through  it  all  President  Harrison  slept 
the  sleep  of  the  weary  and  the  unconcerned.  Incidentally, 
it  is  proper  to  remark  that  neither  Theodore  Roosevelt 


362  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

nor  William  J.  Bryan  would  have  been  asleep  under  simi- 
lar circumstanees. 

But  there  was  one  man  in  the  President's  party  who 
had  seen  this  exhibition  of  indifference  on  the  part  of 
the  President  to  the  expectations  of  the  people  of  Eugene 
— whom  he  had  promised  to  address  as  a  part  of  his 
itinerary — and  who  was  sorely  troubled  over  Harrison's 
failure  to  keep  faith  w'ith  them.  That  man  w-as  "Uncle" 
Jeremiah  Rusk,  then  Secretary  of  Agriculture  in  the 
President's  Cabinet — a  man  with  a  big  heart,  a  typical 
Western  American  of  the  true  pioneer  type.  He  was 
greatly  annoyed  by  the  Eugene  incident  and  that  night, 
while  sitting  near  me  on  the  platform  while  the  Presi- 
dent w^as  addressing  a  great  audience  in  the  old  Exposi- 
tion Building,  he  leaned  toward  me  and  said : 

"Do  you  know  that  I  wouldn't  have  had  that  affair 
happen  at  Eugene  this  morning  for  a  hundred  dollars? 
It  W'as  really  too  bad  and  should  not  have  been  per- 
mitted." 

The  Secretary's  peace  of  mind  was  especially  upset 
because  during  the  afternoon  the  committee  W'hich  had 
presented  the  President's  representative  with  the  moun- 
tain trout  sent  a  dispatch  to  that  individual  in  Portland 
informing  him  that,  if  he  would  return  the  basket  to  them, 
he  could  keep  the  fish  and  they  would  call  it  even ! 

At  Salem  an  immense  throng  had  assembled  though 
the  rain  continued.  There  was  but  one  hour  to  be  devoted 
to  Salem  and  nearly  half  of  this  was  lost  in  trying  to 
find  Governor  Pennoyer,  who  had  refused  to  accompany 
the  committee  to  the  State  line  on  the  ground  that  the 
Governor  of  a  State  is  a  "bigger  man,"  officially,  than 
the  President  of  the  United  States,  since  the  States  are 
"sovereign,"  while  the  Federal  Government  is  but  the 
"creature  of  the  States,"  etc.  He  had  publicly  said  that 
he  would  be  glad  to  welcome  the  President  in  his  office 
in  the  State  House,  but  that  it  would  be  "unseemly"  for 
him  to  go  to  the  State  line.     And  he  didn't ! 

When  the  train  arrived  at  Salem,  how^ever.  the  Gov- 
ernor was  at  the  depot  in  a  cab,  but  this  was  not  known 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  363 

until  the  procession  was  about  to  start  to  the  Capitol, 
when  the  committee  in  charge,  learning  that  the  Gov- 
ernor was  in  the  crowd  somewhere,  instituted  a  search 
for  him.  When  he  was  finally  discovered,  at  least  one- 
fourth  of  the  hour  was  gone.  Another  fourth  was  con- 
sumed in  getting  to  and  into  the  Capitol,  where  the  pro- 
gram was  to  be  presented  in  the  Representatives'  Hall. 
The  first  thing  arranged  was  an  address  by  Mayor  P.  H. 
D'Arcy,  and  as  he  was  a  young  man  who  appreciated 
the  great  privilege  of  actually  addressing  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  he  had  prepared  a  regular  oration, 
dealing  with  the  Boston  tea-party,  Paul  Revere's  ride, 
Israel  Putnam  at  Ticonderoga  and  Webster's  reply  to 
Hayne,  all  leading  up  to  the  causes  of  the  Great  Rebellion, 
etc.,  etc. 

Of  course  this  consumed  nearly  all  that  remained  of 
the  hour  and  when  the  President  arose  to  address  the 
people  there  was  only  time  to  thank  them  for  coming 
out  to  see  him  and  to  express  his  love  for  this  great  West- 
ern Coast,  etc. 

This  turn  of  affairs,  taken  in  connection  with  the  antics 
of  the  eccentric  Governor,  presented  an  amusing  phase 
of  the  situation  W'hich  was  generally  enjoyed,  especially 
since  Mayor  D'Arcy  was  born  in  Salem,  had  lived  there 
every  day  of  his  life  and  was  known  personally  to  every 
man,  woman  and  child  within  thirty  miles  of  the  capital, 
and  could  be  heard, — indeed,  had  been  heard. — on  hun- 
dreds of  other  occasions.  But  D'.Vrcy  was  young  then. 
He  has  since  developed  into  one  of  the  most  popular 
orators  in  Oregon,  and  the  public  always  is  glad  to  hear 
him  speak  on  any  subject  and  occasion. 

The  Presidential  train  arrived  at  Oregon  City  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon.  Here  another  immense  gath- 
ering had  assembled  to  welcome  the  Chief  Executive, 
and  it  was  raining  harder,  if  possible,  than  it  had  rained 
at  any  other  point.  The  w^ater  simply  fell  in  torrents 
and  there  w^re  more  umbrellas  in  sight  than  I  had  sup- 
posed could  be  found  in  all  Oregon.  It  was  here  that 
the  President  made  use  of  one  of  those,  strikingly  apt 


364  FIFTY  YhARS  IN  ORFGON 

expressions  which  characterized  all  his  speeches  on  that 
memorable  trip.  As  he  began  his  address  he  was  stand- 
ing under  an  umbrella,  while  every  citizen  there  was 
actually  ashamed  of  the  weather — it  was  so  "unusual" 
and  unnecessary.  Everybody  was  apologizing  for  its 
misbehavior.  Different  members  of  our  committee  had 
over  and  again  assured  him  that  such  a  storm  in  May 
had  not  been  known  since  the  first  white  settler  came 
here,  ages  ago,  etc. 

But  the  first  thing  the  President  said  was:  "My  fel- 
low citizens,  I  have  just  come  from  the  land  of  sunshine, 
roses  and  irrigation  to  a  country  where  it  is  evident 
that  the  Lord  himself  takes  care  of  the  crops."  This 
put  him  on  splendid  terms  with  his  audience,  proved  to 
us  that  he  knew  a  good  thing  when  he  saw  it  and  con- 
vinced us  that  "this  Oregon  of  ours"  never  makes  a  mis- 
take in  its  weather,  after  all. 

A  great  welcome  was  given  the  President  in  Portland, 
one  entirely  worthy  of  that  city's  reputation  for  open- 
hearted  hospitality,  though  it  continued  to  rain.  The 
only  consolation  to  be  derived  at  the  time  from  this 
unusual  opening  of  the  heavens  was  that  when  the  Presi- 
dential train  arrived  at  Seattle  the  next  morning  it  was 
pouring  as  steadily  as  it  had  during  his  stay  in  Oregon. 

"Uncle"  Jerry  Rusk,  President  Harrison's  Secretary 
of  Agriculture,  was  the  kind  of  man  who  had  full  sym- 
pathy with  the  disappointments  or  sorrows  of  others. 
He  was  a  big  man,  physically  and  temperamentally.  He 
was  always  popular  with  the  people  of  his  State  of  Wis- 
consin and  after  serving  his  district  six  years  in  the 
lower  House  of  Congress  was  elected  Governor  and 
served  for  two  terms.  Upon  the  creation  of  the  office  of 
Secretary  of  Agriculture  President  Harrison  appointed 
him  to  that  position,  which  he  filled  with  great  credit  to 
himself  and  with  benefit  to  the  public.  He  was  a  good 
executive  officer  and  had  the  confidence  of  his  fellows 
always. 

In  October,  1887,  I  was  in  St.  Louis  at  the  time  of 
the  assembling  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  for 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  365 

its  national  encampment.  One  day  of  the  week  was  set 
apart  for  an  excursion  to  Springfield,  Illinois,  to  visit 
the  tomb  of  Lincoln,  and  since  it  was  my  intention  to 
visit  the  home  town  of  the  great  emancipator  while  on 
my  travels — for  it  was  my  first  trip  anywhere  farther 
East  than  to  Baker. — I  accompanied  the  Grand  Army 
men  to  that  most  interesting  city — interesting  because  of 
its  connection  with  the  early  struggles  and  final  triumph 
of  the  great  Lincoln. 

Upon  arriving  at  Springfield  everybody  went  directly 
to  Oak  Ridge  Cemetery  where  the  great  monument 
stands  over  Lincoln's  remains,  and  after  an  hour  spent 
in  walking  reverently  about  the  grounds,  calls  were  made 
for  a  speech  by  Governor  Rusk  of  Wisconsin.  As  the 
demand  would  not  be  stilled,  he  appeared  soon  after- 
ward in  an  open  place  in  the  immense  crowd  and  began 
speaking.  At  once  voices  from  every  direction  demanded 
that  he  speak  from  some  place  where  he  could  be  seen 
as  well  as  heard.  Near  by  was  a  carpenter's  work 
bench — the  grounds  at  that  time  not  having  been  cleared 
of  the  rubbish  left  by  the  contractors — and  several  men 
picked  it  up  and  brought  it  to  where  Rusk  was  standing. 
Upon  this  he  was  assisted  to  mount,  and  after  he  had 
spoken  a  few  minutes  loud  calls  were  made  for  his  staff, 
which  it  was  learned  was  present,  to  mount  the  bench 
and  stand  by  his  side. 

This  brought  out  a  loud  round  of  applause,  and  soon 
several  old  veterans  took  their  places  by  the  side  of  the 
Governor.  It  was  a  most  touching  spectacle,  as  it  was 
soon  discovered  that  each  man  had  lost  either  an  arm 
or  a  leg.  They  kept  coming  until  eleven  men  were 
ranged  beside  the  Governor.  .As  they  stood  there,  hun- 
dreds of  men  in  the  vast  gathering  were  moved  to  tears 
and  everybody  was  hurrahing  for  Rusk  and  his  staff — 
and  the  flag.  Seven  of  his  stafif  had  lost  an  arm  each, 
three  had  lost  a  leg.  and  Colonel  Henry  Fisher,  who  had 
belonged  to  the  Second  Missouri,  had  a  shattered  limb. 

Taking  it  altogether — the  place  where  it  occurred,  the 
experiences  of  the  men  who  constituted  the  assemblage, 


366  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

and  remembering  what  the  struggle  for  which  they  had 
risked  Hfe  and  Hmb  meant  to  this  great  repubUc — it  was 
at  once  one  of  the  most  inspiring  and  most  pathetic  scenes 
I  ever  witnessed. 

Governor  Rusk  was  a  splendid  story-teller,  as  most 
generous,  big-hearted  and  whole-souled  men  are.  On 
his  trip  to  Oregon  in  1891  he  related  one  that  is  worth 
repeating  since  it  aptly  illustrates  the  truth  of  the  old 
saying  that  a  prophet  is  not  without  honor  save  in  his 
own  country. 

Soon  after  his  appointment  to  the  position  of 
Secretary  of  Agriculture  in  the  President's  Cabinet  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  would  visit  the  home  of  his 
boyhood  in  Ohio,  which  he  had  left  when  barely  of  age 
and  to  which  in  all  the  intervening  years  he  had  not 
returned.  When  he  left  for  Wisconsin  in  1853  there 
w-as  no  railroad  within  twenty  miles  of  the  village  where 
he  lived,  but  upon  his  return  he  found  that  a  line  had 
been  run  through  that  section,  but  missing  the  village 
by  a  half  mile,  and  that  a  "hack"  was  run  down  to  the 
station  to  meet  such  passengers  as  might,  for  some  odd 
reason,  want  to  visit  the  little  hamlet. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  station— he  was  the  only  traveler 
who  alighted — he  saw  near  by  a  two-seated  vehicle 
which  he  surmised,  correctly,  was  waiting  for  a  customer. 
He  approached  the  prematurely  old  driver,  whom  he 
recognized  as  one  of  his  schoolmates  in  the  early  days, 
and  who  had  doubtless  never  been  outside  his  county. 
Rusk  took  his  seat  by  the  side  of  the  driver,  but  the 
man  seemed  indisposed  to  engage  in  conversation  save 
with  his  horses,  who  appeared  to  be  decidedly  averse 
to  arriving  at  their  destination.  To  induce  a  faster 
gait,  the  driver  was  constantly  using  both  his  whip  and 
voice. 

Rapidly  taking  in  the  situation.  Rusk  himself  began 
a  conversation,  or  tried  to.  Presently  he  said  to  the 
man: 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  who  I  am,  do  you?" 

"Giddup    there,"    said    the    driver,    as   he   struck   the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  367 

off  horse  with  his  whip.     "Oh,  yes.     I  know  you.     You 
are  Jerry  Rusk." 

And  he  said  nothing  more,  except  to  continue  his 
wrangle  with  his  team.  After  a  few  minutes,  Rusk 
began  the  attack  again. 

"Well."  he  said,  "do  the  people  here  know  that  after 
I  went  out  to  Wisconsin  a  long  time  ago  I  joined  the 
Unif^n  army  as  a  private  and  came  out  a  brigadier 
general?" 

"Giddap!"  replied  the  man.  "Oh.  yes;  we  heard  all 
about  that."     And  he  shut  up  like  a  clam. 

"And  do  they  know,"  continued  the  Governor,  "that 
after  I  returned  home  I  was  elected  to  Congress  and 
served  in  that  body  for  six  years?" 

"Giddap!"  shouted  the  driver.  "Oh,  yes,  they  heard 
all  about  that." 

After  vainly  waiting  for  five  minutes  for  the  driver 
to  show  some  interest  in  the  matter,  and,  perhaps,  to 
get  a  line  as  to  how  he  stood  in  his  old  home  town,  Rusk 
ventured  to  inquire : 

"Well,  do  they  know  that  after  that  I  was  elected 
Governor  of  Wisconsin  for  two  terms?" 

"Giddap !  Yes,  everybody  heard  about  that,  too.'* 
And  he  relapsed  into  a  profound  and  unbroken  silence. 

"I  suppose  they  know  that  at  present  I  am  a  member 
of  the  Cabinet  of  the  President  of  the  United  States?" 
ventured  Rusk,  after  a  short  pause. 

"Giddap,  Bill!"  shouted  the  driver,  as  he  gave  the 
unambitious  horse  an  undercut.  "Yes,  heard  'em  talk- 
ing about  it  at  the  store  'tother  evening." 

There  was  a  pause  of  several  minutes,  during  which. 
Rusk  said,  he  eyed  the  countenance  of  the  driver  to 
discover  what  sort  of  a  inan  he  was  anyway.  Seeing 
that  he  showed  no  glimmer  of  interest  in  his  career,  he 
made  this  last  effort  to  get  an  expression  from  him  as 
to  the  local  estimate  of  himself  and  his  political  triumphs. 

"Well,  v^'hen  the  people  here,  where  I  was  born  and 
where  I  grew  to  manhood,  who  knew  that  I  went  West 
without    money    and    no    friends    to    help — when    they 


',68  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  ORPZGON 


o 


learned  that  I  came  out  of  the  war  a  brigadier  general, 
was  afterwards  elected  to  Congress  three  times,  served 
two  terms  as  Governor  of  Wisconsin  and  finally  became 
a  member  of  the  Cabinet  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States — when  they  heard  all  this,  what  did  they  say?" 

The  man  gave  his  sleepy  horse  a  more  vigorous  cut 
than  usual  and  said : 

"Ah,  giddup  there !    Oh,  they  just  laughed," 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

As  the  time  for  the  opening  of  the  campaign  of  1892 
approached  I  asked  the  Repubhcans  of  Marion  County 
to  favor  me  with  a  fourth  term  in  the  Legislature  and 
my  request  was  granted.  I  appeared  to  have  contracted 
the  habit  of  going  to  the  Legislature,  but  after  the  lapse 
of  so  many  years  it  is  difficult  to  understand  the  reason. 
I  think  my  only  motive  was  to  be  in  a  position  where 
I  could  serve  a  second  term  as  Speaker,  which  at  that 
time  no  man  had  ever  done.  I  had  served  as  Speaker 
of  the  House  at  the  preceding  session  and  had  heard  no 
word  of  criticism  from  any  quarter  of  my  administra- 
tion of  the  duties  of  the  position.  I  hoped,  and  ap- 
parently with  good  reason,  that  I  could  be  re-elected 
easily,  but  upon  the  assembling  of  the  members  I  dis- 
covered that  Hon,  W.  P.  Keady,  who,  as  a  member  from 
Benton  County,  had  been  elected  Speaker  in  1885,  was 
again  a  member,  this  time  from  Multomah  County,  and 
was  an  active  candidate  for  the  same  position. 

The  result  was  that  two  of  my  colleagues  from  Marion 
County  had  for  reasons  that  seemed  sufficient  to  them 
formed  an  indirect  alliance  with  M^r.  Keady.  and  with 
my  local  support  thus  divided  he  was  able  to  make 
other  combinations  which  gave  him  a  majority  in  the 
Republican  caucus.  The  efTect  of  this  was  that  Mr. 
Keady,  instead  of  myself,  won  the  honor  of  being  elected 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  twice, — the 
only  man  who  has  ever  had  that  distinction  to  date. 

Among  my  ardent  supporters  for  the  Speakership 
in  1 89 1  was  J.  W.  Merritt,  of  Jackson  County.  During 
the  progress  of  that  session  he  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  success  of  a  certain  measure  which  I  did  not 
approve  and  against  which  I  voted  upon  its  final  pas- 
sage.    His  bill  was  lost  and  he  felt  the  disappointment 

369 


370  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

very  keenly,  frankly  admitting  to  mc  that  he  was  "sore" 
over  my  attitude  toward  it,  though  we  remained  good 
friends.  When  the  campaign  for  the  Speakership  in 
1893  was  beginning  to  take  form,  I  wrote  Merritt  saying 
that  I  would  feel  grateful  for  his  support  and  that  I 
very  much  hoped  I  might  count  upon  it.  I  remembered 
his  disappointment  in  the  matter  of  the  bill  but  thought 
it  better  not  to  refer  to  it. 

In  a  few  days  I  received  an  answer  in  which  Merritt 
said  he  would  pledge  his  support,  as  requested,  as  he 
thought  I  had  made  a  very  good  presiding  officer,  and 
that  he  was  disposed  to  overlook  my  vote  regarding  a 
certain  measure  in  the  preceding  session,  "since  it  was 

not  likely  that  any  man  would  make  such  a  d d  fool 

of  himself  twice  in  succession." 

Of  course,  under  the  circumstances,  taking  into  con- 
sideration the  fact  that  his  support  was  pledged,  I  could 
afford  to  disregard  his  brutal  candor.  There  are  few 
things  one  cannot  forgive  during  the  stress  of  a  political 
campaign. 

Tilmon  Ford  was  a  prominent  member  of  the  House 
at  this  session  from  my  ow^n  county,  and  to  him  was 
directly  due  my  defeat  for  the  Speakership.  There  was 
a  political  rivalry  in  Marion  County  between  us  and  he 
was  openly  opposed  to  my  candidacy  for  a  second  term 
as  presiding  officer  of  the  House.  The  reason  given  for 
his  action  was  that  Hon.  Echvard  Hirsch,  Senator  from 
our  county,  was  an  aspirant  for  the  presidency  of  the 
Senate  and  he  preferred  to  render  his  contest  easier 
by  making  impossible  the  election  of  a  Marion  County 
man  to  the  Speakership.  It  was  fully  known  that  cir- 
cumstances were  such  that  Mr.  Hirsch  had  no  chance 
for  success,  and  the  real  reason  for  Mr.  Ford's  attitude 
could  be  traced  to  another  source ;  but  the  outcome  was 
the  same  and  his  purpose  was  accomplished. 

Four  years  later  I  was  a  candidate  for  the  Republican 
nomination  for  Congress.  The  fact  no  sooner  became 
known  than  Mr.  Ford  also  was  possessed  with  an  am- 
bition to  serve  Oregon  in  that  body.     He  immediately 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  371 

organized  his  supporters  into  a  working  force  in  every 
Marion  County  precinct,  with  the  result  that,  having 
carried  the  Salem  districts,  with  one  or  two  in  the 
country,  he  had  a  majority  in  the  county  convention. 
The  "unit  rule"  applied,  and  he  had  the  support  of  our 
county  in  the  District  convention,  which  met  in  Albany. 

It  was  in  this  convention — 1896 — that  Mr.  Hermann 
was  finally  defeated  for  a  renomination,  after  se'rving 
in  Congress  continuously  for  twelve  years.  To  accom- 
plish this  result  it  required  about  fifty  ballots  and  a 
session  lasting  until  midnight  of  the  day  on  which  the 
convention  met.  Through  the  entire  protracted  struggle 
Mr.  Ford's  support  only  included  that  of  Marion  County, 
though  it  remained  with  him  until  the  very  last  ballot. 
Naturally,  he  was  very  much  crestfallen  over  the  un- 
expected— to  him — result,  but  I  had  been  kept  out  of 
the  contest  and  in  a  measure  he  and  his  friends  had  won 
a  victory,  though  it  was  a  left-handed  triumph.  This 
was  practically  the  end  of  Mr.  Ford's  political  aspira- 
tions, though  he  was  a  Presidential  elector  in  the  cam- 
paign of  1904  and  made  a  partial  canvass  of  the  State. 

I  refer  to  this  for  the  reason  that  for  ten  3^ears  I 
was  obliged  to  meet  Mr.  Ford's  opposition  in  every  move 
I  made  in  political  matters,  and  when  I  succeeded,  it 
was  in  spite  of  his  active  influence,  which  was  not  to  be 
overlooked  as  he  was  a  man  of  splendid  ability,  a  lawyer 
of  reputation,  was  a  good  public  speaker  and  had  at  his 
disposal  a  private  fortune.  After  the  Albany  conven- 
tion had  nominated  Mr.  Tongue  Mr.  Ford  ceased  his 
active  opposition  to  me,  though  he  gave  me  no  real 
support  until  during  the  primaries  of  1906,  when,  meet- 
ing him  on  the  streets  of  Salem  one  day.  he  asked  for 
the  opportunity  to  say  that  he  was  in  favor  of  my  nomi- 
nation for  Governor  and  that  he  would  do  anything  for 
me  that  I  would  suggest.  This  I  appreciated  more  than 
I  could  say,  and  so  told  him.  He.  as  well  as  his  special 
friends,  afterwards  gave  me  much  assistance. 

Mr.  Ford  met  with  a  serious  accident  in  1905  which, 
after  a  lingering  illness,  caused  his  death.      He  made 


372  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

many  bequests  in  his  will — he  was  a  bachelor — to  friends 
here  and  there  and  gave  to  each  of  fifty  men  named  a 
stated  sum,  with  which  they  were  to  purchase  a  keep- 
sake— a  diamond  ring  or  a  watch — by  which  to  remember 
him.  I  confess  that  I  was  surprised  to  find  my  name 
among  the  favored  ones.  To  be  perfectly  fair,  however, 
Tilmon  Ford  was  a  man  with  a  big  heart  in  many  ways, 
had  a  high  sense  of  honor  in  business  matters  and  was 
greatly  esteemed  by  the  people  generally.  We  entered 
public  life  together  as  colleagues  in  the  Legislature  from 
Marion  County  in  1880,  in  the  campaign  of  which  year 
I  first  met  him.  When  at  that  time  we  began  the  joint 
canvass  with  the  opposing  candidates,  he  was  charged 
at  once  with  having  been  a  Southern  sympathizer  during 
the  Civil  War,  and  the  story  developed  by  constant 
repetition  into  the  direct  statement  that  one  day  in  '63 
he  "rode  along  the  streets  of  Salem  on  a  mule,  hurrahing 
for  Jeff  Davis."  To  this  story,  repeated  daily  in  the 
papers  and  elsewhere.  Ford  paid  no  heed  until  the  very 
last  night  of  the  campaign,  when,  before  an  immense 
audience  gathered  in  the  old  Reed's  Opera  House  in 
Salem,  he  said,  in  closing  his  speech : 

"Now  I  come  to  a  varn  to  the  effect  that  durins:  the 
war  I  rode  up  and  down  the  streets  on  a  mule  hurrahing 
for  Jeff  Davis.  Fellow  citizens,  I  want  here  and  now 
to  brand  this  story  as  the  biggest  kind  of  a  lie.  (Loud 
applause.)  I  never  rode  a  mule  in  all  my  life — it  was 
a  yaller  cayuse !" 

To  this  there  was  a  responsive  yell  of  delight  that  left 
Mr.  Ford  rather  the  favorite  among  the  entire  list  of 
Republican  candidates.  His  was  the  closing  speech  of 
the  evening — and  this  was  his  closing  remark.  It  hit 
the  bull's  eye  and  left  a  splendid  impression  where  a 
serious  attempt  at  refutation  might  have  been  hurtful. 

One  afternoon  during  the  session  of  1893  the  House 
was  considering  a  bill  that  had  to  do  with  the  labor 
question.  There  had  been  so  much  debate  relating  to 
it  tliat  the  members  were  generallv  tired  out  and  were 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  373 

clamoring  for  a  vote,  but  Mr.  Trullinger,  of  Clatsop 
County,  arose  and  asked  the  privilege  of  making  a  few 
remarks.  He  had  not  before  that  taken  any  of  the 
time  of  the  House  and  for  that  reason  his  request  was 
complied  with.  What  he  had  to  say  was  of  real  interest 
and  he  commanded  the  general  attention  for  ten  minutes, 
which  fact  seemed  to  create  in  his  mind  the  impression 
that  he  could  continue  his  speech  indefinitely  without 
objection — a  mistake  frequently  made  even  by  speakers 
of  great  reputation.  The  knack  of  knowing  when 
enough  has  been  said  is  not  the  portion  of  many  public 
men. 

After  Trullinger  had  said  all  he  should  have  said, 
instead  of  resuming  his  seat  "amid  the  plaudits  of  his 
hearers,"  he  proceeded  in  this  wise: 

"Mr.  Speaker,  I  believe  in  work.  Every  man  should 
be  a  working  man.  Labor  is  honorable  and  tends  to 
make  a  man  healthy  and  strong.  I  have  been  a  laboring 
man  all  my  life,  gentlemen.  Mr.  Speaker,  I  really  doubt 
if  any  man  in  Oregon  has  done  more  days  of  hard 
work  than  I  have,  and  I  can  now,  at  the  age  of  nearly 
seventy  years,  throw  down  any  man  in  this  House." 

Before  he  could  make  further  declaration  of  his 
prowess,  Rev.  W.  R.  Bishop,  a  member  from  Multnomah 
County,  gray-headed  and  fully  as  old  as  Trullinger, 
sitting  four  seats  in  front  of  the  latter,  arose  and  ad- 
vanced down  the  aisle  toward  the  challenger,  the  while 
rolling  up  his  sleeves  to  his  elbows.  Assuming  a 
menacing  attitude,  he  said : 

"Does  the  gentleman  prefer  side  holts  or  catch  as 
catch  can?" 

Bishop  had  stopped  when  about  ten  feet  from  Trul- 
linger, and  the  expression  on  the  latter's  countenance  at 
this  unexpected  interruption  of  his  speech — the  House 
roaring  with  laughter  at  the  ludicrous  turn  the  situation 
had  taken — was  a  picture  for  the  student  of  facial  ex- 
pressions. His  answer  to  Bishop's  inquiry  was  never 
known,  if  he  made  any,  for  when  order  was  finally 
restored  he  had  resumed  his  seat,  the  gentleman  from 


374  FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON 

Multnomah   had   returned   to   his   desk,   and   the   labor 
question,  as  well  as  Trullinger,  had  been  settled. 

The  real  "character"'  of  the  House  in  1893  "^"^^s  J.  II. 
Upton,  of  Coos  County.  He  was  a  quaint  looking  man 
who  wore  a  long  beard  and  was  quite  upset  by  his  con- 
viction that  the  "Crime  of  'y^,'^  has  not  been  equalled  in 
its  monstrous,  abhorrent  diabolism  since  the  betrayal 
of  the  Savior  by  Judas  Iscariot.  He  was  practically 
"nutty"  on  the  question  of  the  demonetization  of  silver 
and  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  make  a  motion  to 
adjourn  without  calling  out  a  speech  by  Upton  in  de- 
nunciation of  the  gold  standard.  When  he  addressed  the 
Chair,  he  only  remained  standing  at  his  desk  during  the 
delivery  of  the  first  ten  words.  After  that  he  got  in  the 
aisle  and  began  his  walkmg  exercise  up  and  down  its 
entire  length,  the  while  pouring  hot  shot  into  John  Sher- 
man and  all  his  imps.  His  seat  was  midway  between 
the  Speaker's  desk  and  the  entrance  to  the  lobby  in  the 
rear,  and  when  he  was  traveling  toward  the  galleries  he 
would  direct  his  remarks  to  their  occupants.  As  he 
turned  to  proceed  toward  the  Speaker,  he  would  address 
the  presiding  officer  and  the  amused  members  on  either 
side.  Upton  could  not  talk  and  remain  still,  and  his 
listeners  could  not  remain  still  while  he  talked.  At  times, 
in  his  enthusiasm,  he  would  stoop  so  low  as  he  proceeded 
up  the  aisle  that  the  crown  of  his  head  was  scarcely 
higher  than  the  tops  of  the  desks  and  his  beard  would 
almost  sweep  the  floor,  but  in  an  instant  he  would  resume 
a  standing  posture,  finally  terminating  in  a  tiptoe  at- 
titude worthy  a  vaudeville  artist  as  he  delivered  a  broad- 
side into  the  ranks  of  the  people's  foes — the  Gold  Bugs  I 

But  everybody  enjoyed  Upton,  and  frequently  the  pro- 
ceedings were  so  directed  that  he  would  be  certain  to 
take  the  warpath,  usually  just  before  an  adjournment. 
As  the  session  was  drawing  to  a  close,  however,  he  met 
his  Waterloo.  The  report  of  the  Mileage  Committee  had 
been  read  and  it  allowed  Upton  and  his  colleague, 
McEwan,  only  the  usual  amount  of  traveling  expenses. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  375 

direct  to  Coos  County,  when  the  fact  was  that,  owing 
to  the  deep  snow  then  on  the  Coast  Mountains,  they 
would  be  obliged  to  return  home  by  way  of  San 
Francisco  and  proceed  up  the  coast  to  their  destinations 
— so  Upton  said.  His  seat  was  near  mine,  and  upon 
hearing  the  report  read  he  leaned  across  to  my  desk  and 
said: 

"Say,  I  wish  you  would  move  to  so  amend  that  report 
as  to  allow  McEwan  and  me  mileage  home  by  way  of 
San  Francisco,  for  we  can't  get  home  across  the  moun- 
tains for  two  weeks  yet  on  account  of  the  snow.  I 
wish  you  would  do  me  that  favor,  for  if  I  make  the 
motion  it  will  be  voted  down,  of  course." 

I  told  him  I  would — and,  as  it  was  well  known  that 
it  w^as  his  purpose  all  through  the  session  to  make  a 
record  for  "Reform"  so  conspicuous  in  its  nature  that  he 
would  capture  the  Populist  nomination  for  Congress  in 
the  next  campaign,  I  was  able  to  see  the  probable  out- 
come of  a  proposition  to  secure  mileage  home  by  way 
of  San  Francisco. 

Therefore,  as  well  as  to  be  obliging,  I  addressed  the 
Chair  as  follows : 

"Mr.  Speaker,  the  gentleman  from  Coos,  Mr.  Upton, 
informs  me  that  the  Coast  Mountains  are  so  covered 
with  snow  at  this  time  that  he  and  his  colleague  will 
be  compelled  to  return  home  by  way  of  San  Francisco, 
and  he  has  requested  me  to  move  for  an  amendment  to 
this  report  which  will  allow  them  mileage  on  that  route. 
He  says  that  unless  this  is  done  they  will  be  compelled 
to  remain  in  Salem  for  at  least  two  weeks  after  adjourn- 
ment, and  rather  than  that  such  a  misfortune  as  this — 
to  the  gentlemen,  I  mean,  not  necessarily  to  the  city — 
shall  be  inflicted,  I  move  that  the  report  be  amended  in 
accordance  with  his  request." 

The  motion  was  adopted,  and  the  gentlemen  returned 
home  by  way  of  the  Bay  City,  but  Upton  was  never 
heard  of  as  a  serious  candidate  for  Congress.  Before 
the  motion  was  put,  an  irreverent  member  moved  that 
pay  be  allowed   for  the  extra  fifty  miles   Upton   had 


376  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

traveled  up  and  down  the  aisles  during  the  previous  forty 
days  in  his  savage  tirades  against  the  Money  Power,  but 
the  House  suppressed  the  impudent  suggestion  as  a 
reflection  upon  its  appreciation  of  Brother  Upton's  un- 
questioned earnestness  in  his  defense  of  the  white  metal. 
He  is  still  living,  it  is  said,  in  Coos  County,  but  his 
public  life  terminated  with  his  legislative  experience  in 
'93.  He  was  a  kindly  man  who  had  some  of  the  John 
Brown  temperament  in  the  attempted  promulgation  of 
his  convictions.  His  greatest  fault  was  that  he  believed 
every  man  who  had  access  to  his  sources  of  information 
should  have  sense  enough  to  believe  as  he  did,  and  that 
there  was  no  good  excuse  for  his  not  doing  so. 

And  there  are  many  Uptons  in  every  walk  of  life. 
Intolerance  is  illiberality,  illiberality  is  a  form  of  selfish- 
ness, and  selfishness  is  at  the  basis  of  almost  all  the 
world's  sorrows  and  disappointments. 


CHAPTER  L 

Sylvester  Pennoyer  had  been  Governor  of  Oregon  for 
eight  years  when  the  campaign  of  1894  began  to  com- 
mand the  attention  of  the  people  of  Oregon,  and  since 
the  State  Constitution  forbids  the  same  man  occupying 
the  position  of  Chief  Executive  for  more  than  two 
terms  of  four  years  each  in  succession,  it  became  neces- 
sary to  search  for  new  material  with  which  to  fill  that 
position.  It  had  been  suspected  for  two  years  that  the 
retiring  Governor  had  cast  a  covetous  eye  on  a  seat 
in  the  United  States  Senate,  and  this  suspicion  was 
verified  in  the  spring  of  1894  when  he  announced  his 
intention  to  canvass  the  State  in  support  of  his  candidacy, 
in  the  hope  of  electing  a  Democratic  Legislature.  He  had 
been  exercising  a  surprising  influence  over  the  people  of 
Oregon,  principally  by  addressing  himself  to  the  farmers, 
appealing  to  them  for  support  and  directly  allying  himself 
with  them  and  their  interests.  In  his  campaigns  he  had 
adroitly  planned  his  trips  through  the  State  in  a  way 
that  included  the  smaller  towns,  avoiding  the  cities,  to 
which  most  public  speakers  directed  their  main  efforts. 
In  this  way  he  met  the  farmers  and,  as  a  rule,  captured 
them  in  great  numbers.  He  was  one  of  the  most  ef- 
fective campaigners  the  State  has  ever  known ;  for  he 
was  plausible  and  his  solemn  countenance  would  carry 
conviction  to  the  assemblage,  which  failed  to  detect  the 
twinkle  of  the  eye  that  a  closer  inspection  would  always 
discover. 

For  this  reason,  and  because  of  the  victories  he  had 
w^on  in  past  campaigns  in  the  face  of  apparently  in- 
surmountable obstacles,  the  Republicans  viewed  with 
alarm  the  prospect  of  losing  a  seat  in  the  United  States 
Senate.  The  term  of  Senator  Dolph  was  expiring,  and 
as  he  had  from  the  very  beginning  of  the  discussion  of 

377 


3/8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

the  question  of  free  silver  been  an  eloquent  and  con- 
vincing advocate  of  the  gold  standard,  the  situation 
presented  conditions  which  appeared  to  contribute 
directly  to  Pennoyer's  success.  There  seemed  to  be 
good  reasons  for  fearing  not  only  the  loss  of  a  Senator- 
ship,  but  the  election  of  a  Democratic  Governor  for  the 
third  time  in  succession  in  a  strongly  Republican  State. 

William  Galloway  had  been  nominated  by  the  Dem- 
ocrats for  Governor  and  he  was  an  admittedly  strong 
man.  Against  him  the  Republicans  had  chosen  Judge 
William  P.  Lord,  who  for  sixteen  years  had  served  on 
the  State  Supreme  Bench  with  great  distinction.  While 
a  noted  jurist  and  having  a  splendid  record,  he  was 
not  a  public  speaker  and  was  further  handicapped  in 
making  a  State  campaign  by  reason  of  his  partial 
deafness. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  Republican  State  Com- 
mittee invited  me  to  make  a  canvass  of  the  State,  advo- 
cating Judge  Lord's  election.  Having  been  a  farmer  all 
my  life,  it  was  thought  that  I  had  better  be  sent  on  the 
trail  of  Pennoyer,  who  had  already  published  his 
itinerary,  to  speak  in  every  town  and  locality  where  he 
had  appeared. 

To  this  request  I  consented,  after  some  well-grounded 
misgivings  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  course.  I  had  never 
done  any  campaigning  outside  of  my  own  county,  save 
a  half-dozen  speeches  during  the  Harrison  campaign  two 
years  before,  and  it  seemed  a  tremendous  undertaking. 
However,  there  was  much  at  stake  for  the  Republicans 
and  I  buckled  on  my  armor  and  "waded  in." 

It  was  certainly  a  "red-hot"  campaign,  practically 
every  speaker  in  both,  or  rather  all  three  of  the  political 
parties.  Republican,  Democratic  and  Populist,  taking 
some  part  in  the  contest,  either  local  or  in  the  State  at 
large.  Governor  Pennoyer  was  on  the  "stump"  most 
of  the  time  for  a  month,  visiting  every  part  of  the  State, 
preaching  the  doctrines  of  free  silver,  populism,  where 
it  would  appear  to  do  the  greatest  service  to  his  cause, 
and  denouncing  the  "money  power,"  "gold  bugs,"  "cen- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  379 

tralization,"  and  the  "Crime  of  'yT^'^  with  all  the  rhetori- 
cal vehemence  he  possessed. 

Nathan  Pierce,  of  Umatilla  County,  was  the  Populist 
candidate  for  Governor,  and  Pennoyer  supported  both 
him  and  Galloway,  for  during  the  last  Pennoyer  admin- 
istration it  was  never  quite  made  out  whether  its  chief 
was  a  Democrat  or  a  Populist. 

The  result  of  this  campaign  was  an  easy  victory  for 
Judge  Lord,  his  majority  being  several  thousand,  and 
Sylvester  Pennoyer's  ambition  to  go  to  the  United  States 
Senate  became  but  a  dream.  At  the  end  of  his  term 
as  Governor,  in  January,  1895,  he  retired  to  private  life, 
though  afterward  he  was  elected  Mayor  of  Portland  and 
served  in  that  capacity  for  one  term  of  two  years. 

On  May  28,  during  the  campaign  in  1894,  I  addressed 
a  meeting  at  Arlington  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
I  had  spoken  at  Pendleton  the  night  before  and  was  due 
at  La  Grande  the  day  after,  but  as  time  was  valuable  and 
election  day  drawing  near,  it  was  decided  that  I  should 
run  down  the  Columbia  to  Arlington  and  after  the 
meeting  take  the  night  train  back  to  La  Grande.  The 
Columbia  River  was  unusually  high  at  that  time  and 
many  people  advised  me  to  abandon  the  Arlington  meet- 
ing on  account  of  the  danger  of  encountering  a  wash- 
out and  thus  rendering  the  return  to  La  Grande  im- 
possible. But  the  train  was  going  to  risk  the  run  down 
and  I  took  the  chance. 

As  it  proved,  however,  it  was  the  wrong  thing  to 
do,  for  the  east-bound  train  did  not  come.  The  rapidly 
rising  river  destroyed  the  track  in  several  places  and  the 
next  morning  there  was  no  connection  from  Arlington 
with  any  point,  either  east  or  west,  by  rail,  'phone  or 
telegraph.  It  was  an  uncomfortable  situation,  aside  from 
the  anxiety  and  vexation  we  experienced  because  of  our 
inability  to  fulfil  our  engagements.  But  we  were  most 
effectually  stranded.  After  vainly  trying  all  day  to  hear 
something  from  somewhere — anywhere — a  cattle  buyer 
(W.  H.  Daughtrey)  and  I  hired  a  team  to  take  us  to 
The    Willows,    nine   miles   above,    where    the    Heppner 


38o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

branch  makes  its  junction  with  the  main  line.  We  hoped 
the  train  on  that  branch  might  make  the  run,  and  if 
we  could  get  to  Heppner,  some  sixty  miles  away,  we 
could  go  overland  to  Pendleton  and  thus  make  our 
escape.  But  there  was  no  train  back  to  Heppner  and  we 
were  not  so  well  off  as  at  Arlington. 

However,  there  was  a  small  crew  of  men  rigging  out 
a  hand-car  which  they  intended  to  take  up  the  track  some 
fifteen  miles  to  Castle  Rock,  and  they  informed  us  that 
if  we  were  once  there  the  station-keeper  would  no  doubt 
take  us  with  his  team  to  Umatilla  Landing,  which  point 
was  above  the  damaged  portion  of  the  roadbed.  And 
they  added  that  if  we  would  assist  in  pumping  the  car 
that  fifteen  miles  they  would  furnish  us  the  transporta- 
tion without  charge!  Realizing  that  there  was  no 
alternative,  we  accepted  the  favor  (?)  and  took  our 
places  at  the  handles.  The  car  was  loaded  with  materials 
of  various  kinds  which  were  piled  so  high  that  it  was 
impossible  to  see  the  men  working  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  "engine."  To  be  candid,  much  of  the  time  I 
wondered  whether  there  was  any  force  being  applied  to 
the  propelling  power  except  what  I  was  furnishing 
myself. 

I  really  believe  that  was  the  hardest  single  piece  of 
work  I  ever  did.  The  grade  up  the  Columbia  on  that 
stretch  of  track  is  steep  and  the  load  was  heavy.  I 
had  been  inured  to  the  hard  work  of  a  farm,  and 
for  thirty  years  had  managed  one  of  my  own,  frequently 
putting  in  twelve  and  even  fifteen  hours  a  day  mowing, 
harvesting,  plowing,  making  rail  and  cordwood,  fencing 
and  digging  pestholes,  but  I  was  never  so  near  "holler- 
ing enough"  as  when  we  had  made  about  five  miles  of 
that  trip  on  an  O.  R.  &  N.  hand-car.  I  was  standing 
on  the  rear  end  of  the  platform,  which  projected  barely 
enough  for  a  foothold,  and  after  we  had  made  about 
one  mile  I  was  so  entirely  out  of  breath  that  I  was 
unable  to  furnish  the  least  particle  of  motive  power. 
Neither  could  I  let  go  of  the  handles,  since  they  supplied 
me  with  the  only  purchase  I  had  to  maintain  my  place  on 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  381 

the  four-wheeled  bronco.  I  not  only  could  not  let  go, 
but  I  could  not  stop,  even  for  a  moment,  the  up-and- 
down  motion  of  the  handles.  I  was,  in  fact,  in  great 
danger  of  falling  off  through  sheer  exhaustion  when  the 
exigencies  of  the  situation  compelled  me  to  call  a  halt 
until  I  could  reorganize  my  scattered  forces. 

After  a  short  breathing  spell,  during  which  the  rail- 
road men  indulged  in  much  sport  at  our  expense  ( for 
Daughtrey  showed  every  sign  of  approaching  physical 
dissolution  when  he  emerged  from  behind  the  moun- 
tain of  supplies),  we  proceeded  on  to  Castle  Rock, 
where  the  men  went  on  after  pointing  out  the  station- 
keeper's  house.  We  roused  him  from  his  slumbers,  for 
it  was  then  1 1  o'clock,  and  told  him  our  predicament — 
how  we  happened  to  be  there  and  that  we  wanted  him 
to  take  us  to  the  "Landing"  the  next  morning  with  his 
team. 

"Team?"  he  said,  in  a  very  surprised  tone;  "why, 
I  have  no  team  here  and  never  had.  What  would  I 
want  with  a  team  here?" 

And,  sure  enough,  why  should  he  keep  a  team? 
Castle  Rock  was  then  ten  miles  from  anywhere,  in  the 
middle  of  a  cheerless  stretch  of  sand  and  sage-brush  and 
not  a  tree  nearer  than  forty  miles.  That  we  had  been 
taken  in  by  the  railroad  men  was  then  apparent,  but 
the  station-keeper  routed  a  part  of  his  family  out  of 
their  beds — where  he  put  them  we  never  could  deter- 
mine— and  we  were  made  so  comfortable  that,  crude 
as  were  our  accommodations,  by  contrast  with  the  hand- 
car experience  they  seemed  superior  to  those  of  the 
Waldorf-Astoria. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfasting  at  six  o'clock, 
Daughtrey  and  I  settled  down  to  a  serious  considera- 
tion of  the  situation.  It  was  Decoration  Day,  and  as 
the  sun  came  up  over  those,  burning  sand-hills  its  heat 
was  enough  to  roast  an  egg — and  it  was  twenty-five 
miles  to  the  Landing!  Finally  I  told  my  companion,  in 
pure  desperation,  that  I  was  going  to  ask  the  good  woman 
of  the  house  to  put  up  a  luncheon  for  me — that  I  would 


382  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

walk  that  distance — that  I  could  by  that  means  at  least 
be  at  the  Landing  at  night — that  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  physical  endurance  and  that  I  saw  no  other  way 
out  of  the  dilemma — did  he? 

His  reply  was  that  he  could  not  walk  that  far  if  his 
life  depended  upon  it,  and  that  I  should,  upon  my  arrival 
at  the  Landing,  send  a  man  and  team  after  him.  This 
I  agreed  to  do  and  started  out  up  the  track.  After 
proceeding  two  hundred  yards,  I  heard  a  shout  behind 
me.  It  proved  to  be  Daughtrey,  who  informed  me  that 
if  I  would  wait  until  he  could  secure  a  luncheon  he 
would  join  me,  since  he  couldn't  bear  to  remain  at  that 
"God-forsaken  place"  alone. 

For  ten  miles  we  walked  along  the  river  banks.  As 
they  were  in  many  places  submerged  and  the  water 
backed  out  into  sloughs  for  two  miles  inland,  we  were 
often  compelled  to  follow  these  to  their  junction  with 
the  foothills  and  then  return  to  the  river,  as  they  were 
too  deep  to  ford.  At  Coyote  the  track  "cuts  across"  a 
bend  in  the  river  and  for  at  least  ten  miles  there  is  no 
water  in  sight.  Here  we  ate  our  luncheon,  though  it 
was  but  ten  o'clock,  and  then  plunged  into  this  desert 
walk.  By  this  time  the  heat  was  frightful  in  its  in- 
tensity. We  had  not  proceeded  more  than  three  miles 
when  Daughtrey,  whose  business  required  much  horse- 
back riding,  and  who  was  therefore  unaccustomed  to 
walking,  even  under  sane  conditions,  began  to  lag  behind. 
About  every  half-mile  there  was  a  pile  of  newly  sawed 
railroad  ties  which  had  been  dumped  for  repair  work, 
and  when  one  of  these  v/as  reached  Daughtrey  would 
throw  himself  across  it  in  an  attempt  to  cool  off;  but 
these  short  rests  only  served  to  render  his  locomotion 
slower,  with  the  result  that  within  an  hour  he  was  almost 
entirely  disabled.  He  finally  removed  his  trousers, 
hoping  thereby  to  gain  some  relief,  and  threw  them  over 
his  shoulder  while  he  trudged  across  that  desert  with  the 
perspiration  streaming  from  his  nose  and  chin. 

Tired  and  hot  as  I  was,  I  was  in  no  such  condition 
as   Daughtrey,   but   I   verily  believe   that   the   contrast, 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  383 

which  I  recognized,  was  all  that  kept  me  going.  If 
this  page  could  be  illustrated  with  a  "snap  shot"  of 
Daughtrey,  red  of  face,  weighing  two  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds,  trouserless  and  blistered,  it  would  be 
w^orth  any  reasonable  sum  of  money. 

When  within  six  miles  of  the  Landing  we  spied  the 
Columbia  River  but  a  mile  away.  Being  almost 
famished,  we  debated  whether  it  w^ould  be  better  to  go 
to  the  river  and  back  for  a  drink,  thus  adding  two  miles 
to  our  trip — and  this  seemed  more  than  we  could  en- 
dure— or  whether  we  should  make  that  six  miles  without 
water.  We  looked  at  the  river  and  at  each  other,  but 
the  river  presented  much  the  more  cheering  prospect 
and  we  started  in  that  direction.  Upon  reaching  it,  we 
prostrated  ourselves  full  length  and  drank  as  only 
famished  men  can  drink.  I  recall  now  how  thankful 
I  was  that  an  unparalleled  flood  was  on,  since  it 
guaranteed  a  sufficient  amount  of  water  to  satisfy  our 
consuming  thirst. 

But  this  side  trip  was  the  final  undoing  of  my  com- 
panion. He  had  cooled  off,  was  as  "stif¥  as  an  ox,"  as 
he  said,  and  was  wholly  unable  to  go  any  further. 
After  directing  me  to  hire  a  liveryman  at  the  Landing 
and  send  him  down,  he  flattened  himself  out  on  a  pile 
of  sage-brush  and  collapsed  utterly.  But  I  had  not 
proceeded  far  before  I  met  a  man  with  a  team  and 
wagon,  the  latter  bearing  a  hayrack  filled  with  provisions 
which  he  was  taking  to  a  crew  of  men  who  were  work- 
ing on  an  irrigating  ditch.  To  him  I  explained  the 
situation,  and  as  he  knew  Daughtrey  he  agreed  to  take 
us  to  the  Landing.  We  found  Daughtrey  in  a  sound 
sleep  and  in  the  midst  of  a  fearful  nightmare.  Upon 
seeing  his  friend  he  fell  all  over  him,  assured  him 
that  he  was  the  best  looking  man  he  had  seen  for  a 
year,  and  offered  to  pay  him  in  advance  for  taking 
us  to  the  Landing.  We  finally  arrived  there  at  seven 
o'clock,  tired  and  hungry,  but  thankful  that  we  were 
alive. 

After  a  hearty  meal  I  went  to  my  room  at  a  hotel 


384  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

and  was  proceeding  to  retire,  though  it  was  not  yet 
dark,  when  there  w^as  a  vigorous  rap  at  my  door.  It 
proved  to  be  a  messenger  sent  by  a  delegation  of  the 
town  people  to  invite  me  to  participate  in  a  debate. 
As  several  hundred  persons  had  been  detained  for  two 
days  in  the  town  on  account  of  the  prevailing  conditions, 
with  nothing  to  do.  it  was  thought  expedient  to  hold  a 
political  meeting,  particularly  as  Mr.  Galloway,  the 
Democratic  candidate  for  Governor,  W.  R.  Holmes, 
nominee  on  the  same  ticket  for  Attorney  General,  and 
other  prominent  politicians  were  among  the  visitors. 
As  I  could  think  of  no  plausible  reason  for  declining, 
I  re-dressed  myself  (as  that  seemed  to  be  the  only 
redress  within  my  reach)  and  proceeded  to  the  public 
hall  where  there  was  a  joint  debate  which  lasted  until 
midnight. 

The  next  morning,  before  arising,  while  thinking  over 
the  experiences  of  the  preceding  two  days  and  nights. 
I  wondered  why  I  was  not  at  home  attending  to  my 
every-day  duties,  amid  normal  and  pleasant  surround- 
ings, instead  of  engaged  in  campaign  work  for  others, 
with  no  compensation  whatever — only  my  actual  ex- 
penses being  paid — while  I  hired  out  of  my  own  pocket 
a  man  to  take  my  place  on  the  farm ! 

But,  then,  no  man  who  enters  deeply  into  political 
life  can  justly  claim  to  be  in  normal  condition. 

A  special  car  was  sent  to  Pendleton  that  day  to  take 
a  few  of  us  there,  and  two  days  later  I  reached  La 
Grande,  where  the  last  meeting  of  the  cam.paign  was 
held  on  Saturday.  I  had  gone  to  Arlington  on  Monday 
and  should  have  been  in  La  Grande  on  Tuesday. 

I  remained  in  Union  County  for  a  week  waiting  for 
the  Columbia  to  subside,  when  I  returned  to  Pendle- 
ton ;  but  the  railroad  tracks  had  not  been  repaired  and 
the  company  sent  all  its  passengers  to  Portland  by  way 
of  Walla  Walla,  Spokane  and  Tacoma.  We  made  the 
trip  from  Kelso  to  Portland  on  the  Northern  Pacific 
transfer  boat. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON  385 

On  this  campaign,  though  closely  following  Governor 
Pennoyer,  I  saw  him  but  once.  He  addressed  the  people 
at  Heppner  the  same  night  I  was  at  Arlington.  The 
next  morning  there  was  a  train  from  Heppner  to  the 
Junction  and  he  arrived  there,  nine  miles  from  Arhng- 
ton,  very  early  in  the  morning.  The  fact  is,  there  was 
nothing  at  the  Junction  except  the  mere  junction,  and 
as  no  trains  were  running  there  w'as  no  place  to  go, 
nobody  to  see  and  nothing  to  do.  After  looking  about 
for  a  few^  minutes.  His  Excellency  spied  a  shack  not 
far  away  which  looked  as  if  it  might  have  an  occupant. 
To  this  he  went  and  rapped  on  the  door.  There  was 
no  response.  Pounding  again  on  the  door  with  great 
vigor,  he  finally  succeeded  in  eliciting  the  inquiry,  made  in 
no  gentle  tone : 

"Who  the  d 1  are  you?" 

The  brogue  smacked  decidedly  of  the  Emerald  Isle. 
Pennoyer  replied  in  that  peculiarly  bland  tone  for  which 
he  was  justly  famed: 

"I  am  Governor  Pennoyer,  and  I  would  like  to  get 
a  bite  of  breakfast." 

"Well,"  said  the  voice  inside  the  cabin,  "I  have  been 
up  all  night  and  am  not  going  to  get  up  now,  not  even 
fur  a  Guv'ner." 

But  Pennoyer  insisted  that  he  let  him  in,  at  least, 
as  there  was  no  place  to  go.  To  this  the  Irishman  re- 
sponded : 

"Ah,  go  on  wad  ye !  As  ye  said  to  President  Cleve- 
land, 'You  attend  to  your  own  business  and  I'll  attend 
to  mme. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  mirthful  Governor. 
Abandoning  the  siege,  he  turned  his  face  toward  Arling- 
ton, nine  miles  away,  in  company  with  a  companion 
who  had  listened  to  his  interview  with  the  Irishman, 
and  who  reported  the  joke  on  His  Excellency.  I  was 
standing  on  the  main  street  of  Arlington  about  eleven 
o'clock  on  that  day  in  conversation  wath  a  group  of 
belated  pilgrims  when  we  saw  Pennoyer  walking  toward 
us,  grip   in  hand,  bearing  every  evidence  of  excessive 


386  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

fatigue.  When  he  reached  us,  I  introduced  him  to  the 
little  gathering  and  he  told  us  of  his  experience,  omitting, 
however,  his  encounter  with  the  son  of  Erin.  He  said 
that  was  the  longest  walk  he  had  taken  in  twenty  years. 
He  remained  in  Arlington  for  a  day  and  night,  then 
started  for  Portland  in  a  small  boat,  accompanied  by 
three  friends,  and  after  many  hardships  and  several 
narrow  escapes  from  drowning,  arrived  in  Portland 
in  time  to  cast  his  vote  on  the  following  Monday. 

During  the  prevalence  of  the  Coxey's  Army  crusade 
just  previous  to  this  campaign,  President  Cleveland  had 
advised  many  of  the  Governors  as  to  their  duties  in  the 
management  of  the  disorders  it  occasioned,  and  to  his 
message  sent  to  Governor  Pennoyer  the  latter  replied 
as  follows : 

To  the  President: 

Yours  is  received.    If  you  will  attend  to  your  busi- 
ness I  will  attend  to  mine. 

Sylvester  Pennoyer, 

Governor. 

This  telegram  was  eminently  characteristic  of  Pen- 
noyer, and  his  curt,  not  to  say  undignified,  reply  to  the 
President  caused  wide  and  unfavorable  comment ;  but 
this  only  pleased  the  Governor.  Because  of  his  loyalty 
to  the  gold  standard  Pennoyer  had  a  great  loathing 
for  the  President,  and  one  year,  in  order  to  show  his 
independence  of  the  "Great  Apostate,"  appointed  a  dif- 
ferent day  for  the  observance  of  Thanksgiving  from 
that  named  by  him. 


CHAPTER  LI 

When  the  Legislature  met  in  January,  1895,  John  H. 
Mitchell  had  been  United  States  Senator  from  Oregon 
for  fifteen  years,  Joseph  N.  Dolph  for  twelve  years  and 
Binger  Hermann  had  been  in  the  lower  House  of 
Congress  for  ten  years.  These  were  three  able  men 
and  their  influence  in  Congress  was  at  least  equal  to 
that  of  the  delegation  of  any  other  State.  Indeed,  it  was 
frequently  declared  by  Eastern  observers  that  no  other 
State  had  two  Senators  who  stood  so  well  in  the  Senate 
in  point  of  ability  and  who  secured  so  much  in  the  way 
of  appropriations  for  home  improvements,  as  had 
Oregon.  Mitchell  was  a  man  of  wonderful  personality 
and  popularity,  and  had  great  influence  among  his  col- 
leagues. Dolph,  though  not  so  genial  in  his  manner, 
was  the  stronger  man  intellectually  and  his  addresses 
before  the  Senate  always  held  the  attention  of  his  as- 
sociates. He  had  a  commanding  presence  and  there 
was  a  substantiality  to  his  conclusions  that  indicated 
profound  research  and  unquestioned  sincerity.  He  was 
not  a  demagogue  in  any  sense  and  declared  his  convictions 
without  any  regard  whatever  for  their  effect  on  his 
political  fortunes. 

Binger  Hermann  was  one  of  the  smoothest  politicians 
Oregon  has  ever  produced  (and  that  is  "going  some" 
for  Hermann)  and  his  ability  to  secure  help  for  his 
State  from  the  Federal  Treasury  was  unequalled  by  any 
other  Representative  in  Congress.  These  three  men 
were  so  successful  in  obtaining  what  they  asked  for 
from  Congress  that  Oregon  gained  great  prestige  in  the 
nation  at  large  and  their  constituencies  were  justly 
proud  of  them. 

Mr.  Dolph  was  a  pronounced  advocate  of  the  gold 
standard,  having  given  much  thought  to  the  question, 

387 


388  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

and  before  it  became  a  matter  of  general  discussion  had 
delivered  several  speeches  in  the  Senate  relative  to  what 
he  could  foresee  would  soon  develop  into  a  national  issue. 
His  term  expired  on  March  4,  1895,  just  in  the  midst 
of  the  Populist  wave  which  overspread  the  country,  but 
his  attitude  on  the  monev  question  remained  unchanged 
and  he  went  dow^n  to  defeat  at  the  hands  of  Repub- 
lican members  of  the  Legislature,  who  were  bound  that 
no  "gold  bug"  should  represent  them  in  the  Senate. 

Senator  Mitchell  had  always  been  an  advocate  of  the 
free  coinage  of  silver  and  his  friends  took  the  initiative 
in  defeating  Dolph  for  re-election.  A  sufficient  number 
of  them  refused  to  observe  the  action  of  the  Republican 
caucus  w^hich  re-nominated  Dolph  and  prevented  an 
election  until  the  last  minute  of  the  session,  when  the 
name  of  ex- Secretary  of  State  George  W.  McBride  was 
presented   and  he  w-as  elected. 

The  defeat  of  Senator  Dolph  was  a  great  mistake  on 
the  part  of  the  Oregon  Republicans  who  were  re- 
sponsible for  it,  for  not  only  did  they  retire  from  the 
public  service  a  very  able  and  conscientious  statesinan 
who  had  conferred  distinction  on  his  State  in  the  United 
States  Senate,  but  it  arrayed  his  friends  against  Mitchell 
and  was  the  beginning  of  a  bitter  warfare  against  him. 

The  retirement  of  Dolph  disrupted  the  delegation 
which  had  done  so  much  for  the  State  and  none  has 
ever  stood  so  well  in  Congress  since.  Hermann  was 
defeated  two  years  later.  Since  then  Oregon's  repre- 
sentation in  the  national  lawmaking  body  has  been  of 
a  hit-and-miss  character,  frequently  changing,  and  some- 
times not  changing  fast  enough,  usually  at  variance  with 
itself  and  having  little  to  do  wnth  questions  of  national 
moment. 

That  was  a  splendid  era  in  Oregon  history  when 
Dolph,  Mitchell  and  Hermann  were  for  ten  years  its 
sole  representatives  in  Congress  and  were  known  as  its 
"working  delegation.'' 

Perhaps    no    Presidential    campaign    during    the    last 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  389 

fifty  years  has  so  literally  been  one  "of  education"  as 
that  of  1896.  The  question  of  the  monetary  standard 
had  finally  been  brought  to  the  attention  of  the  country 
at  large,  partly  through  the  persistent  agitation  of  the 
matter  of  fiat  money  by  the  Populists,  and  partly  by 
the  silver  interests  of  the  West.  Bryan  was  nominated 
by  the  Democrats  as  a  pronounced  free  silver  champion 
and  McKinley  was  put  forward  by  the  Republicans  on 
a  gold  standard  platform.  There  was  no  dodging  the 
issue  and  every  other  question  was  subordinated  to  that 
of  the  future  financial  policy  of  the  country. 

There  was  a  very  amusing  aspect  to  the  newly- 
developed  situation  in  Oregon,  which  was  also  without 
doubt  witnessed  elsewhere.  Men  who  had  never  before 
been  known  to  express  an  opinion  on  the  question,  who 
had  not  discussed  public  matters  of  any  kind — men 
whose  entire  lives  had  been  devoted  to  daily  toil  on  foot- 
hill ranches,  for  instance — suddenly  developed  into 
veritable  oracles  on  every  detail  of  the  complicated 
minutia  of  monetary  problems.  I  knew  many  men  who 
had  been  my  acquaintances  for  a  generation  and  who 
had  devoted  no  thought  to  the  free  coinage  of  silver 
or  any  other  phase  of  public  financial  matters,  who  in 
'96  would  argue  by  the  hour,  or  even  by  the  half-day, 
if  an  audience  of  only  one  man  could  be  secured  and 
held,  to  show  the  tendency  of  the  times  toward  "the 
subjugation  of  the  masses"  by  the  operation  of  the  gold 
standard.  Prices  had  been  distressingly  low  for  three 
years  and  the  gold  standard  was  the  cause:  therefore, 
prices  could  never  rise  and  thus  bring  relief  to  the 
masses  until  the  gold  standard  was  upset  and  the  free 
coinage  of  silver  again  adopted,  and  that  "without  wait- 
ing for  the  consent  of  any  other  nation  on  earth!"  This 
mere  reference  to  the  matter  sounds  like  reading  an  old, 
half-forgotten  story,  so  familiar  are  these  phrases  and 
declarations,  also  these  mournful  predictions. 

The  stress  of  hard  times  which  had  been  endured 
by  the  people  for  a  few  years  had  produced  a  condition 
favorable     for    the    successful    propagation    of     these 


390  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

fallacies,  and  by  regiments  they  accepted  the  theory  that 
what  we  wanted  was  a  cheaper  currency  and  more  of 
it.  Bryan's  speech  at  the  Chicago  Convention  had  an 
electrical  effect  upon  thousands,  even  millions,  of  people 
who  afterward  themselves  wondered  at  their  shortsight- 
edness. So  general  was  the  spread  of  the  free  silver 
gospel  that  in  Oregon,  if  the  election  had  been  held 
on  the  first  of  September,  Bryan  would  without  doubt 
have  carried  it  by  at  least  five  thousand  majority — and 
it  required  "a  campaign  of  education"  to  prevent  it. 

I  had  been  nominated  by  the  Republicans  at  the  State 
Convention  which  met  in  Portland  in  April  as  one 
of  the  four  Presidential  electors  and.  as  such,  took  an 
active  part  in  the  fall  campaign.  There  was  an  apparent 
hesitancy  on  the  part  of  many  Republicans  of  promi- 
nence to  begin  the  contest,  which  it  was  plain  must  be 
waged  vigorously  if  a  victory  for  McKinley  was  to  be 
won.  Senator  Dolph  had  been  retired  because  his  atti- 
tude had  been  precisely  that  endorsed  by  the  National 
Republican  platform  and  Senator  ]\Iitchell  was  one  of 
the  most  pronounced  and  active  free  silver  advocates 
in  the  United  States.  He  had  repeatedly  declared  for 
the  very  principle  embodied  in  Bryan's  platform,  and 
had  contended  with  an  earnestness  not  surpassed  by 
the  Boy  Orator  of  the  Platte  himself  that  it  w^as  of 
supreme  importance  to  the  people  of  the  United  States. 

Naturally,  therefore,  there  was  much  speculation 
among  the  people  of  Oregon  as  to  what  course  Mitchell 
w^ould  adopt  in  the  situation  thus  presented.  He  him- 
self said  nothing,  though  repeatedly  urged  by  the  Repub- 
licans to  declare  his  intentions.  In  the  early  fall,  how- 
ever, he  made  a  journey  to  Canton,  Ohio,  had  an  inter- 
view with  Major  McKinley,  returned  home  and  an- 
nounced that  he  would  support  the  Republican  National 
ticket  and  that  he  would  take  the  "stump"  for  McKinley. 

But  his  hesitancy  displeased  the  great  body  of  the 
Republicans  and  his  decision  especially  angered  the 
Populists,  the  free  silver  Republicans  and  Democrats. 
It  was,  in  fact,  a  very  hard  situation  for  Mitchell,  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  391 

the  action  he  finally  took  was  the  only  one  possible  under 
the  circumstances — unless,  indeed,  he  concluded  to 
follow  the  course  of  Jonathan  Bourne,  and  thousands  of 
other  Republicans,  who  bolted  outright  and  gave  their 
support  to  Bryan.  Bourne  had  been  elected  as  Repre- 
sentative from  Multnomah  County  in  the  preceding  June 
as  a  Republican  and  was  also  the  secretary  of  the  Repub- 
lican State  Committee.  He  was,  however,  a  strong  believer 
in  the  free  coinage  of  silver  and  an  enthusiastic  admirer 
of  Mitchell,  and  after  the  national  conventions  had 
been  held  announced  his  intention  of  supporting  Bryan — • 
and  did  support  him.  1  he  fact  that  a  Bryan  man  was 
secretary  of  the  Republican  State  Committee  presented 
a  very  anomalous  as  well  as  embarrassing  situation  and 
largely  accounted  for  the  difficulty  encountered  in  putting 
any  sort  of  life  and  aggressiveness  into  the  McKinley 
campaign.  Mr.  Bourne  finally  resigned  his  position,  and 
after  Mitchell  had  decided  what  he  would  do  the  cam- 
paign was  formally  opened  on  September  18,  when  an 
immense  meeting  was  held  at  the  Marquam  Theater  in 
Portland,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Sound  Money 
League,  an  organization  which  had  been  formed  by 
many  of  the  leading  Republicans  of  that  city,  who  were 
impatient  with  the  apparent  apathy  of  the  State  organi- 
zation. I  attended  this  meeting,  and  from  there  went 
into  Clackamas  County  and  was  not  again  at  my  home, 
except  one  Sunday  in  October  for  two  hours,  until  after 
the  election,  which  was  held  on  November  3.  I  visited 
almost  every  county  in  the  State,  speaking  generally  in 
the  country  districts  and  the  smaller  towns,  where,  it 
was  thought,  the  greatest  defections  from  the  national 
ticket  were  to  be  found.  It  was  a  most  difficult 
itinerary  to  follow,  traveling  by  all  sorts  of  conveyances, 
sometimes  on  foot,  and  frequently  speaking  two  and 
three  times  a  day. 

I  was  sent  to  a  town  called  Rufus,  in  Sherman  County, 
a  railroad  station  merely,  where  at  that  time  of  the  year 
there  were  hundreds  of  farmers  camped  every  night 
delivering  their  grain  from  the  remote  sections  of  that 


392  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  Oki^GON 

district.  Some  of  them  employed  three  days  to  make 
a  trip  and  return.  It  was  a  very  populous  place  during 
the  grain  delivery  season  but  was  abandoned  for  the 
remainder  of  the  year. 

I  arrived  at  Rufus  in  the  afternoon  and  found  every- 
body very  busy.  As  nobody  appeared  to  be  interested 
in  politics  just  then,  I  went  to  the  hotel  and  entertained 
myself  without  molesting  those  who  appeared  to  be  in 
better  business.  There  I  discovered  an  old  schoolmate 
whom  I  had  known  in  Silverton.  nearly  forty  years 
before,  and  who  had  lived  in  the  old  town  all  this  time. 
He  was  one  of  its  well-known  business  men,  and  was 
so  much  better  dressed  than  I  had  ever  seen  him  before 
that  I  was  really  surprised — also  surprised  to  see  him 
where  he  was.     So  I  said : 

"Why,  hello.  Os!  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing 
here?  It's  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you  outside  of 
Silverton  for  thirty  years." 

He  explained  that  he  was  of?  for  a  short  vacation 
and  that  he  was  visiting  some  of  his  wife's  relatives 
who  lived  not  far  away. 

After  supper,  and  when  I  had  concluded  that  it  was 
about  time  for  somebody  to  be  looking  after  the  meet- 
ing, I  was  sitting  in  the  hotel  office  near  a  table  and  my 
friend  was  at  another,  some  twenty  feet  to  my  rear. 
Suddenly  two  men  came,  somewhat  out  of  breath,  looked 
at  me  a  moment  and  passed  on  to  the  Silverton  visitor, 
when  one  of  them  said : 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  are  you  the  gentleman  who 
is  to  speak  here  to-night?" 

"No,  sir,"  I  heard  him  replv,  "I  am  here  on  a  visit 
only." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  other  returned.  "You 
are  the  only  man  in  the  room  who  looks  like  a  speaker 
and  I  thought  you  must  be  the  man  we  are  after. 
We  are  the  committee." 

At  this  my  friend  explained  who  the  speaker  was, 
but  by  this  time  I  had  presented  myself,  laughingly 
apologizing  for  my  ordinary  appearance,  and  the  four  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  393 

us  went  to  the  meeting  where  several  hundred  farmers 
had  assembled,  all  deeply  interested  in  Mr.  Bryan's 
declaration  that  wheat,  then  bringing  fifty  cents  a  bushel, 
would  never  bring  a  higher  price  until  we  got  rid  of 
the  gold  standard. 

On  the  night  of  September  30,  I  addressed  a  meeting 
in  the  town  of  Tillamook,  and  the  next  night,  accom- 
panied by  a  dozen  of  the  prominent  Republicans  of  that 
place,  took  a  gasoline  launch  and  started  across  the  Bay 
to  hold  a  meeting  at  Bay  City,  some  ten  miles  away. 
We  did  not  start  until  after  dark  and  the  night  was 
very  foggy.  When  we  had  traveled  about  long  enough 
to  have  arrived  at  our  destination  we  saw  a  light,  but 
as  we  were  getting  ready  to  disembark,  it  was  discovered 
that  it  was  the  lantern  hanging  at  our  starting  point! 
We  had  made  a  huge  circle  around  the  Bay  and  returned 
to  Tillamook. 

It  v>-as  then  tune  lor  tne  meeting  10  begin,  but  we 
concluded,  as  the  night  was  pleasant,  to  make  another 
trial,  explain  to  the  people  the  cause  of  the  delay — it 
was  thought  not  good  policy  thus  to  disappoint  a  "bunch" 
of  voters  v.hose  support  was  likely  to  be  badly  needed — 
and  perhaps  return  by  midnight. 

Upon  the  second  trial  the  captain  was  more  successful 
and  landed  us  at  the  Bay  City  wharf  at  nine-thirty. 
We  were  met  by  a  committee  which  announced  that  the 
schoolhouse  on  the  hillside  was  "full  of  men  and  women 
who  had  been  waitin'  for  tw^o  hours,"  so  we  proceeded 
there  at  once.  We  found  them  singing  "In  the  Sw^et 
Bye  and  Bye."  "Onward  Christian  Soldiers,"  etc.  When 
we  entered  I  at  once  began  to  explain  how  it  was,  and 
had  been,  with  us — that  I  regretted  the  affair  very  much 
and  hoped  that  at  some  future  time  I  might  have  the 
opportunity,  etc.,  etc. — but  there  were  loud  protests  at 
any  postponement,  one  man  rising  and  saying  that  the 
people  wanted  to  hear  the  speech,  that  there  had  been, 
it  appeared  to  them,  a  disposition  to  slight  their  locality 


394  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

because  it  was  somewhat  out  of  the  way,  and  that  they 
proposed  to  remain. 

I  surrendered  at  once  and  the  meeting  proceeded, 
occupying  an  hour  and  a  half.  After  it  was  over  we 
again  boarded  our  launch.  The  captain  said  that  if 
•we  hurried  we  might  be  able  to  retrace  our  course  across 
the  Bay,  since  the  tide  was  just  beginning  to  recede; 
on  a  low  tide  we  would  be  compelled  to  make  a  detour 
of  several  additional  miles.  So  we  started  straight  across 
the  Bay  on  an  ebbing  tide  and  when  not  more  than 
a  half-mile  from  Bay  City  struck  a  sand  bar.  Of  course, 
on  a  falling  tide  it  was  impossible  to  get  away,  and  in 
five  minutes  we  felt  the  boat  settling  into  the  sand. 

Within  an  hour  our  little  craft  was  "high  and  dry" 
and  not  a  drop  of  water  within  three  hundred  yards 
of  us.  We  had  no  bedding,  no  luncheon,  not  even  a 
peanut  to  take  off  the  edge  of  our  keen  appetites,  not 
even  so  much  as  a  stool  upon  which  to  sit.  There  was 
a  pile  of  slab-wood  w^hich  was  used  for  fuel,  upon  which 
a  few  of  us  lounged  by  turns.  One  of  the  men  had 
his  wife  along,  as  she  insisted  upon  having  a  little 
"outing."  and  she  proved  about  the  bravest  and  most 
patient  of  the  entire  crew,  as  is  usually  the  case. 

About  daylight  we  saw  the  tide  returning  and  at  seven 
o'clock  or  thereabouts  were  able  to  float  once  more  and 
proceed  to  Tillamook,  where  we  ate  a  late  breakfast 
of  fresh  salmon  and  other  delicacies  that  carried  terror 
to   the  heart   of   the   astonished   landlord. 

On  account  of  this  delay  I  missed  the  stage  that 
morning  for  Portland,  where  I  had  expected  to  attend 
a  meeting  addressed  by  Roswell  G.  Horr.  a  noted  cam- 
paigner from  Michigan.  But  I  enjoyed  the  day  with 
friends  in  Tillamook,  after  taking  a  nap  of  a  few  hours 
duration,  and  became  very  much  interested  in  that 
splendid  region  which  constitutes  one  of  the  finest  dairy 
countries  in  the  world.  Before  many  years  there  will 
be  a  coast  line  from  Astoria  to  San  Francisco,  making 
the  coast  counties  of  Oregon  one  of  the  most  desirable 
and  prosperous  sections  of  the  Northwest,     The  Coast 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  395 

range  of  mountains  is  not  rocky,  being  unlike  the 
Cascades  in  that  respect,  and  with  its  relatively  mild 
climate  and  productive  soil  will  furnish  homes  for  mil- 
lions of  people  from  its  summit  to  the  very  beach  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean. 

There  is  something  very  fascinating  in  the  work  of 
a  campaign  like  that  of  1890.  There  was  absorbing 
interest  manifested  in  the  questions  at  issue  and  the 
people  were  deeply  concerned  as  to  the  outcome  of  the 
contest.  For  this  reason  the  attendance  was  always 
large  and  the  interest  never  permitted  to  lag.  If  your 
friends  were  too  few  in  number  to  greet  you  frequently 
with  "tremendous  applause,"  the  "enemy"  was  quite 
likely  to  make  it  warm  enough  to  answer  all  reasonable 
purposes.  I  remember  that  I  once  addressed  a  meeting 
at  a  place  called  Bellevue,  in  Yamhill  County,  which  was 
held  in  the  afternoon  in  a  schoolhouse.  I  was  invited 
there  by  the  only  Republican  in  the  precinct,  as  it 
turned  out  afterward.  He  had  written  that  it  was  a 
good  place  to  "do  missionary  work,"  since  the  Populists 
were  overwhelmingly  in  the  majority,  but  was  careful 
to  conceal  from  me  the  fact  that  they  constituted  about 
ninety-nine  per  cent  of  the  population  and  were  on  the 
warpath  for  every  Republican  scalp  from  John  Sherman 
down. 

I  had  spoken  at  McMinnville  the  evening  before,  and 
three  prominent  Republicans  from  there  drove  over  to 
Bellevue  to  attend  the  meeting.  When  we  arrived  within 
sight  of  the  place — only  a  schoolhouse  at  a  crossroads — 
there  was  a  crowd  waiting  for  me,  most  of  them  sitting 
on  the  fences,  whittling  and  relating  what  they  would 
do  to  me  when  I  should  make  my  "gold  bug"  speech. 

We  tied  our  horses  to  a  maple  tree  near  by  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  schoolhouse.  It  was  decidedly  the  coldest 
greeting — if  that  be  the  proper  word  to  describe  the 
manner  in  which  the  suspicious  people  eyed  us — one  can 
imagine.  After  we  went  in  the  house  was  soon  fillled 
and  Watt  Henderson,  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  and  one 


yjG  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

of  those  accompanying  inc.  called  thcni  to  order — there 
were  no  local  Republicans — and  I  began  my  "remarks." 
I  had  not  talked  more  than  fi\'e  minutes  before  a  long- 
whiskered  fellow  who  was  sitting  in  a  window-sill  in- 
terrupted me  with  the  intimation  that  he  would  demand 
the  proof  before  he  would  believe  what  I  had  just  said. 
1  had  copied  the  statement  from  a  speech  in  the  Con- 
gressional Record,  which  I  had  at  home,  but,  although 
I  gave  the  date  and  page,  my  ([uestioner  said  that  was 
not  sufficient.  He  wanted  the  Record  itself,  and  added 
that  the  country  was  full  of  gold  bug  speakers  who  were 
fooling  the  workingmen  with  rot  for  which  there  was 
no  foundation.  He  was  not  satisfied,  he  said,  with  mere 
quotations.     "Give  us  facts,"  etc. 

That  was  the  signal  for  a  display  of  fireworks  that 
knew  no  cessation  for  fully  two  hours.  Finally,  as  I 
was  to  speak  at  Sheridan  that  night.  I  was  compelled  to 
adjourn  the  meeting,  which  was  done  amid  the  greatest 
confusion.  When  T  had  reached  the  door  one  of  the 
men  again  attacked  me,  with  his  tongue,  also  with  a  very 
threatening  attitude  physically,  and,  v\'ith  the  entire 
gathering  surrounding  us.  said  I  had  not  once  referred 
to  so  and  so,  and  that  was  the  most  important  thing  he 
wanted  to  hear.  All  the  Repul)lican  speakers  dodged  it, 
he  said.  So  T  returned  to  the  platform,  called  the  meet- 
ing to  order,  and  we  had  an  encore  that  lasted  for  ten 
minutes. 

After  this  T  was  allowed  to  escape,  for  which  piece 
of  good  luck  I  have  never  since  failed  to  be  thankful. 
Although  such  ex])eriences  were  not  uncommon  in 
Oregon  at  that  time,  that  was  the  "fiercest"  exhibition 
of  political  enthusiasm  ( I  use  the  word  enthusiasm 
rather  than  intolerance  out  of  deference  to  that  spirit  of 
charity  which  T  have  since  cultivated  and  developed)  I 
ever  encountered  in  my  twenty  years'  campaigning  in 
Oregon. 

A  few  years  since  I  was  relating  some  of  the  pleasures, 
surprises    and    hardships    I    had    "met    up    with"    while 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  397 

engaged  in  campaign  work  to  Fred  Lockley.  the  genial 
manager  of  the  Pacific  Monthly,  among  which  was  the 
trip  to  Tillamook.  This  reminded  him  of  an  experience 
he  had  in  the  Coast  iMountains  once  upon  a  time,  when 
canvassing  for  the  Salem  Statesman,  that  is  worth 
listening  to. 

*Tt  was  in  November,"  said  Lockley,  "and  the  rainy 
season  was  on.  I  was  traveling  on  horseback  and  v/as 
on  my  way  from  Woods  to  Tillamook.  Night  overtook 
me  and  houses  were  few  and  far  apart.  Occasionally 
there  would  be  a  little  clearing,  with  a  cabin  in  it,  and 
then  it  would  be  dense  timber  for  a  mile  or  two.  The 
rain  was  falling  in  torrents  and  I  was  wet  through. 
Suddenly  I  spied  a  light  through  the  timber  and  it  soon 
proved  to  be  in  a  log  cabin  not  far  ahead.  Arriving 
at  the  house  I  shouted  at  the  top  of  my  voice  and  a  man 
came  to  the  door.  I  told  him  my  predicament  and  that 
I  would  be  glad  for  merely  a  shelter  for  myself  and 
horse  until  morning.  He  said  he  would  be  pleased  to 
have  me  stay  all  night,  so  we  put  my  horse  in  a  small 
stable  near  by.  He  gave  me  some  supper  and  soon 
afterwards  showed  me  where  to  sleep.  The  room  was 
a  'lean  to'  about  seven  feet  square,  and  I  was  glad 
enough  to  retire  and  rest,  also  to  divest  myself  of  my 
soaked  clothing. 

"The  bed  had  not  been  'made  up,'  but  I  cared  nothing 
for  that.  There  was  plenty  of  bedding  and  a  good 
pillow,  which  still  showed  the  impression  of  the  head 
of  its  last  occupant.  As  the  air  was  filled  with  a  dank 
odor  which  was  not  pleasant,  I  tried  to  raise  the  single 
window  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  but  I  found  it  had  been 
nailed  in.  I  decided  finally  that  I  was  lucky  to  have  a 
bed  and  shelter  at  all  and  retired. 

"I  slept  exceedingly  well  and  awoke  the  next  morning 
refreshed  and  feeling  like  a  new  man.  When  I  appeared 
for  breakfast,  my  host  asked  how  I  had  rested. 

"  'Oh,  splendidly,'  I  replied.  'The  bed  was  soft  and 
I  was  dead  to  the  world  until  morning.' 

"'Well,  I'm  glad  of  that,'  responded  the   fellow,   as 


398  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

he  poured  out  two  cups  of  black  coffee,  'you  see  my  wife 
died  in  that  room  two  weeks  ago  of  pneumonia  and  I 
haven't  had  the  heart  to  go  into  it  since  they  carried  her 
out  for  the  funeral.' 

"One  cup  of  coffee  was  all  the  breakfast  I  wanted," 
continued  Lockley.  "and  it  took  me  several  months  to 
banish  even  partially  from  my  mind  the  picture  of  that 
impression  in  the  pillow  in  which  I  had  laid  my  head 
for  the  splendid  night's  rest  which   followed." 


CHAPTER  LII 

The  Republicans  carried  Oregon  in  1896  for  McKinley 
by  a  majority  slightly  above  two  thousand  and  had  elected 
a  Republican  Legislature  in  June  of  that  year.  This 
body  was  to  choose  a  successor  to  John  H.  Mitchell  in 
the  United  States  Senate,  and  at  the  time  it  was  chosen 
it  was  deemed  safely  in  favor  of  his  re-election,  but  his 
decision  to  support  McKinley  and,  tacitly  at  least,  to 
desert  the  cause  of  free  silver,  cost  him  the  support  of 
a  large  number  of  his  former  friends.  The  leader  of 
this  defection  was  Jonathan  Bourne,  at  present  a  United 
State  Senator  from  Oregon,  who  openly  supported  Bryan 
for  President,  though  claiming  to  be  "as  good  a  Repub- 
lican as  anybody." 

The  fact  was  that  at  the  time  of  his  nomination  there 
was  an  understanding  that  in  return  for  his  support  of 
Mitchell  for  re-election,  if  he  should  be  successful  at  the 
polls,  Mitchell  would  lend  his  aid  toward  Bourne's  elec- 
tion as  Speaker  of  the  House.  When  the  time  came  to 
"deliver  the  goods"  Mitchell  found  Bourne  was  a  Bryan 
man  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  carry  out  his  agree- 
ment. This,  together  with  his  abandonment  of  the  free 
silver  propaganda,  was  the  cause  of  a  decision  on  the 
part  of  some  of  his  former  friends  to  defeat  him  for 
re-election  at  any  cost.  It  was  known  that  if  the  Legis- 
lature should  organize.  Mitchell's  election  was  certain 
to  follow:  therefore,  the  desperate  alternative  to  prevent 
an  organization  was  deliberately  planned.  The  course 
pursued  was  to  refuse  attendance,  to  prevent  a  quorum 
being  present  at  an}'^  time.  This  scheme,  revolutionary  in 
its  essence,  was  adopted  until  the  constitutional  limit  of 
an  Oregon  Legislative  session  had  been  reached,  when 
the  members  went  home  without  any  kind  of  legislative 
business  having  been  transacted.  The  Senate  was  organ- 
ized but  was  powerless  to  proceed  with  its  work. 

399      ■ 


400  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  leading  assistant  of  Jonathan  Bourne  in  this  bold 
expedient  for  "getting  even"  was  W.  S.  U'Ren,  then 
a  Populist  member  froni  Clackamas  County,  and  at 
present  the  leading  advocate  of  the  single  tax  proposition 
in  Oregon.  Mr.  Bourne  was  a  very  wealthy  man  and 
spent  his  money  freely  in  his  effort  to  "teach  Mitchell 
a  lesson."  He  maintained  magnificent  quarters  and  en- 
tertained lavishly,  holding  his  organization  together 
with  a  degree  of  success  that  marked  him  a  master  in 
the  art  of  political  manipulation. 

From  an  impartial  standpoint,  thc're  waj  no  justifica- 
tion whatever  for  this  move.  It  was  plainly  revolu- 
tionary; there  was  no  reason  offered  at  any  time  except 
the  bold  decision  to  prevent  the  re-election  of  Senator 
Mitchell,  and  the  fair  man  will  admit  that  this  was 
no  reason  at  all.  And  yet  what  shall  the  ultimate  verdict 
be  when  it  is  recalled  that  within  nine  years  from  that 
time  Jonathan  Bourne  was  himself  elected  United  States 
Senator  by  the  Legislature,  the  people  of  Oregon  having 
voted  in  his  favor  against  several  other  prominent  Re- 
publicans at  the  primary  nominating  election  and  after- 
ward against  one  of  the  most  popular  Democrats  in  the 
State? 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Bourne  had  done  nothing  in 
politics  to  atone  in  any  way  for  his  course,  if,  indeed, 
any  atonement  were  necessary,  and,  in  view  of  his 
popular  endorsement,  it  seemed  not  to  be  required. 

The  failure  to  organize  the  Legislature,  and  the  conse- 
quent lack  of  appropriations  with  which  to  carry  on  the 
State  government,  cost  the  people  many  thousands  of 
dollars;  but,  as  another  illustration  of  the  wayward 
course  of  politics,  the  men  who  were  responsible  for  it 
have  since  been  regarded  as  the  especial  friends  of  the 
people  and  have  be^n  particularly  honored  by  them. 

The  three  men  who  were  chosen  McKinley's  electors 
in  1896  besides  myself  were  Hon.  John  F.  Caples,  Hon. 
E.  L.  Smith  and  Hon.  S.  M.  Yoran.  They  were  all  good 
speakers  and  took  a  prominent  part  in   the  campaign 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  401 

which  brought  success  to  our  ticket.  Having  "won  out," 
I  was  quite  anxious  to  be  chosen  messenger  to  carry  the 
vote  to  Washington — principally  for  the  reason  that  I 
had  never  been  in  the  National  Capital — and  I  made  my 
aspiration  known  to  my  associates  soon  after  the  elec- 
tion. Mr.  Caples  had  once  before  been  an  elector  from 
Oregon  and  had  been  chosen  as  messenger,  so  he  was 
willing  to  keep  out  of  the  contest.  Mr.  Yoran,  it  de- 
veloped at  once,  was  as  desirous  to  act  in  that  capacity 
as  I  was  and  was  an  active  candidate  for  the  trip. 

According  to  law,  we  met  in  the  State  Capitol  on 
January  11,  and,  after  organizing,  cast  our  votes  for 
McKinley  and  Hobart  for  President  and  Vice-President, 
respectively,  of  the  United  States. 

Having  attended  to  this  little  affair,  which  was  of 
secondary  importance,  for  there  seemed  a  general  im- 
pression that  it  would  turn  out  that  way  even  before 
we  met,  the  more  interesting  business  of  choosing  a  mes- 
senger was  taken  up.  Judge  Caples  was  the  chairman, 
and  we  proceeded  to  cast  our  votes  by  putting  in  his  silk 
tile  three  slips  of  paper,  on  each  of  which  was  the  name 
of  one  of  the  three  contestants,  Smith,  Yoran  and  myself. 
After  giving  the  hat  a  thorough  shaking  the  Judge 
placed  his  hand  vvithin  it  and  took  hold  of  one  of  the 
j)ieces  of  paper.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment  to  take 
it  out,  making  one  of  his  familiar  grimaces,  but  finally 
brought  it  to  light,  and  it  bore  the  name  of  E.  L.  Smith. 

Then  something  out  of  the  ordinary  happened.  Mr. 
Smith  arose  and  said : 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  would  like  to  make  this  trip  to 
Washington  and  have  fairly  won  the  opportunity,  but 
my  two  colleagues  want  to  go  so  much  more  than  I  do, 
if  I  may  judge  by  the  look  of  disappointment  on  their 
faces,  that  I  will  forego  the  advantage  I  have  gained. 
I  propose  that  this  vote  be  taken  over,  in  order  that  one 
of  them  may  have  a  chance  to  win.  /  zvould  rather 
there  would  be  one  funeral  over  this  matter  than  two." 

Mr.  Yoran  and  I  protested  against  Mr.  Smith's  gen- 
erous offer,  but  he  insisted  upon  another  vote ;  so,  rather 


402  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

than  appear  rude,  we  surrendered.  After  another 
shakeup,  a  paper  was  drawn  out  and  I  was  the  successful 
contestant.  I  tried  hard  to  follow  Mr.  Smith's  example, 
but  some  way  it  didn't  work;  besides,  after  studying  Mr. 
Yoran's  coimtenance  for  a  moment.  I  became  satisfied 
that  he  would  survive  the  disappointment.  Subsequent 
events  have  justified  my  conclusion,  since  he  is  to-day 
one  of  the  active  business  men  of  Eugene  and  in  the 
best  of  health. 

On  my  way  to  W^ashington  I  stopped  off  at  Canton 
to  pay  my  respects  to  Mr.  McKinley,  arriving  there 
January  23.  I  found  him  very  busy,  of  course,  and 
several  men  waiting  for  an  interview.  One  of  these, 
a  man  from  Kentucky,  was  visibly  abashed  when,  his 
turn  having  come,  McKinley  took  his  hand  and  said  by 
his  expression  that  he  w'as  glad  to  see  him — but  w'hat 
was  it? 

The  pilgrim  from  the  blue-grass  section  stammered 
that  he  was  an  applicant  for  an  appointment  and  pro- 
ceeded to  give  his  reasons  for  expecting  his  request  to 
be  granted.  Mr.  McKinley  replied  in  his  gracious 
manner  that  he  could  not  yet  make  any  promise;  that 
he  desired  to  favor  his  friends  where  it  was  possible 
without  crippling  the  public  service ;  that  he  had  a  special 
love  for  Kentuckians,  anyway,  and  that  later  he  would 
be  glad  to  hear  further  from  his  visitor.  By  this  time 
they  were  near  the  door  and  the  man  w^as  bowed  out, 
carrying  away  a  very  favorable  impression  of  the  Presi- 
dent-elect, I  have  no  doubt.  He  probably  went  home 
to  his  neighbors  with  a  story  that  he  had  McKinley's 
promise  for  his  appointment. 

From  him  the  Major  came  at  once  to  where  I  was 
seated  and  looked  at  me  inquiringly.  I  arose  and  said 
that  I  had  no  business,  that  I  did  not  want  any  appoint- 
ment— not  then,  at  least — but  that  I  w^as  the  messenger 
from  Oregon  bearing  to  Washington  the  electoral  vote 
of  that  State  for  him. 

At  this  he  asked  me  to  sit  down,  and  added  :  "Now, 
if  you  had  gone  to  Washington,  passing  through  Canton, 


FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON  403 

and  had  not  called  to  see  me,  an  apology  would  have 
been  in  order."  He  said  he  recalled  that  at  the  Min- 
neapolis Convention  in  1892,  of  which  he  was  chair- 
man, the  Oregon  delegation  wanted  to  make  him  Presi- 
dent before  he  was  ready.  He  then  commented  upon  the 
fact  that  Oregon  was  the  only  State  west  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  that  had  given  him  its  electoral  vote,  all 
the  others  being  for  Bryan  except  California,  which  was 
divided.  He  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  details  of 
the  campaign  we  had  waged  in  Oregon  and  desired, 
through  me.  to  thank  its  people  for  their  support. 

After  the  inauguration  of  President  McKinley  on 
March  4,  there  was.  naturally  enough,  an  active  move- 
ment among  the  Oregon  Republicans  toward  the  Federal 
appointments  which  would  follow  a  change  of  adminis- 
tration. In  fact,  this  movement  began  without  any 
unnecessary  delay  after  the  result  of  the  November  elec- 
tion w^as  known.  As  I  could  truthfully  claim  to  have 
traveled  over  a  greater  portion  of  the  State  in  the  '96 
campaign  and  to  have  made  more  addresses  than  any 
other  speaker,  it  was  generally  conceded  that  my  ambi- 
tion to  be  appointed  collector  of  customs  at  Portland 
should  be  gratified.  A  monster  petition  to  the  President 
for  my  appointment  was  secured  and  forwarded  to  the 
delegation  in  Congress,  consisting  of  Senator  Geo.  W. 
McBride  and  Representatives  W.  R.  Ellis  and  Thomas  H. 
Tongue.  Of  all  the  persons  in  the  State  to  whom  this 
petition  was  presented,  there  was  but  one  man  who  did 
not  append  his  signature  willingly.  Indeed,  there  was 
no  opposition  from  any  quarter  and  I  felt  as  sure  of 
receiving  the  appointment  as  I  was  that  McKinley  had 
been  inaugurated.  I  w-as  fully  aware  that  there  are 
many  slips  in  politics,  but  in  this  case  there  was  no  doubt. 
It  was  a  sure  thing! 

But  when  the  petition  was  forwarded  it  met  with  no 
response  from  the  delegation.  After  w-aiting  a  month, 
I  sent  a  letter  of  inquiry  and  was  informed  that  the 
petition  had  been  received,  but  that  it  had  not  yet  been 
read,    since    it    was   the    intention   of   the    President    to 


404  i  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

recognize  the  "gold"  Democrats,  where  possible,  and  that 
as  the  then  incumbent  of  the  office  of  collector  of 
customs  zvas  a  ''gold"  Democrat,  it  was  not  likely  there 
would  be  any  change  in  that  position  in  the  near  future. 
There  was  such  a  coldness,  such  an  air  of  indifference 
with  regard  to  the  whole  matter,  that  much  speculation 
was  aroused  among  my  friends  as  to  what  it  all  meant. 
]\Iany  insisted  that  there  must  be  some  understanding, 
some  obligation  on  the  part  of  the  delegation  to  dispose 
of  this  appointment  in  some  other  way,  and  it  was  freely 
predicted  that  subsequent  events  would  prove  it.  It 
may  be  said  at  this  late  day,  and  without  the  slightest 
remnant  of  bitterness  toward  anybody,  that  the  days 
of  prophecy  have  not  yet  passed  altogether. 

This  question  of  the  appointment  of  collector  of 
customs  assumed  great  importance  and  was  taken  up  by 
my  friends  all  over  the  State — by  them,  more  than  by 
myself.  There  was  such  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  hesitating  delegation  that  it  was  finally  announced 
by  them  that  upon  their  return  to  Portland  in  August 
the  matter  would  be  fully  considered.  On  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  that  month,  therefore,  I  went  to  Portland 
and  had  a  conference  with  them,  but  the  explanations 
presented  seemed  to  explain  nothing.  I  returned  home 
with  the  information  only  that  it  was  evidently  the  pur- 
pose of  the  President  to  retain  the  Democratic  incum- 
bent indefinitely,  the  most  discouraging  feature  of  it, 
however,  being  that  there  was  no  promise  that  I  should 
receive  their  endorsement  for  the  position  when,  in  the 
course  of  human  events,  the  change  would  be  made. 

On  September  4  I  went  to  Portland  again,  to  look 
further  into  the  situation,  and  learned  on  the  streets, 
before  reaching  my  hotel,  that  the  delegation  had  that 
morning  recommended  to  the  President  my  appointment 
as  register  of  the  United  States  Land  Office  at  Oregon 
City — an  appointment  which  no  member  of  it  had  ever 
consulted  me  about  and  for  which  I  had  not  been  a 
candidate.  This  utter  disregard  of  the  petition  of  the 
Oregon  Republicans,  more  especially  since  it  appeared 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  405 

to  justify  the  general  suspicion  that  there  was  a  ])rior 
political  trade  which  interfered  with  its  recognition, 
created  a  wave  of  indignation  throughout  the  State. 
Within  a  week  I  received  more  than  one  hundred  letters 
urging  me  not  to  accept  the  Oregon  City  appointment, 
if  made.  These  letters  were  from  prominent  and  in- 
fluential Republicans  in  the  various  counties,  all  promis- 
ing me  their  support  for  the  nomination  for  Governor 
or  Congress  the  next  year,  unless  in  the  meantime  their 
request  that  I  be  appointed  collector  of  customs,  or  a 
promise  of  the  recommendation  of  the  Congressional 
delegation,  be  granted. 

My  own  impulse  was  to  decline  the  a])pointment  and 
take  my  chances  with  the  people  for  a  vindication,  since 
I  was  occupying  a  more  prominent  place  in  politics  than  I 
had  hoped  for;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  to  reject  the 
recommendation  was  a  bold  move,  which  I  hesitated  to 
make — and  yet  no  bolder  than  that  which  had  been 
"handed  to  me." 

However,  I  finally  decided,  yielding  both  to  my  own 
preference  and  to  the  persistent  demands  of  friends  in 
all  parts  of  the  State,  to  notify  the  delegation  that  I 
would  not  accept  the  appointment  for  the  Land  Office. 
Accordingly  I  wrote  the  following  letter  to  the  delega- 
tion and  sent  a  copy  to  the  Orcgonian,  in  v^'hich  it  was 
published  the  next  day : 

Macleay,  Or.,  September  17,  1897. 
To  Senator  G.  W.  Mc Bride  and  Representatives 
W.  R.  Ellis  and  T.  H.  Tongue: 

Gentlemen, — Regarding  your  recommendation  for 
my  appointment  as  register  of  the  Oregon  City  Land 
Office,  I  beg  leave  to  say  that  extended  reflection  has 
only  served  to  confirm  my  first  conclusion  not  to 
accept  the  appointment,  if  made. 

There  are  two  controlling  reasons  which  impel  me 
to  this  decision,  the  first  of  which  is  that  I  have 
never  been  a  candidate,  in  any  sense,  for  the  position 
for  which  I  was  recommended,  as  an  examination  of 
my  personal  letters  and  petitions  in  my  behalf  will 


4o6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

surely  show ;  and  for  the  further  reason  that  several 
months  ago  I  joined  in  recommending  a  personal 
friend  for  the  Oregon  City  office — a  bar  to  my  accept- 
ance which  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  overlook. 

I  dislike  very  much  to  be  considered  a  "miscel- 
laneous candidate"  for  any  position  on  the  political 
chessboard  that  may  be  parceled  out  to  me  by  those 
having  the  "placing"  of  ihe  men.  T  had.  and  still  have,  ~ 
what  T  regard  as  a  laudable  ambition  to  be  collector 
of  customs  for  this  district,  but  if  in  your  judgment 
the  best  interests  of  the  public  service  and  of  the  Re- 
publican party  (and,  of  course,  in  cases  like  this  we 
are  not  influenced  by  other  considerations)  demand 
that  this  request  of  myself  and  friends  be  denied,  then 
I  bow  as  gracefully  as  possible  to  your  decision,  but 
must  insist  upon  my  privilege  of  declining  to  be  a 
candidate  for  any  other  appointment. 

It  goes  without  saying,  gentlemen,  that  my  attach- 
ment to  the  Republican  party  is  supported  by  un- 
diminished ardor,  for,  in  my  judgment,  there  has  been 
no  time  in  its  history  when  it  was  more  nearly  right 
on  all  public  questions  than  now  ;  and  the  years  to 
come  will,  I'm  sure,  fmd  us,  as  heretofore,  battling 
side  by  side  for  the  success  of  the  principles  we  love 
so   well. 

With  kind  regards,  I  am,  etc. 

This  letter,  "if  it  is  me  as  says  it,"  created  a  great 
sensation  in  Oregon  politics  and  at  once  changed  the 
trend  of  affairs  in  the  Republican  party  of  the  State. 
I  received  hundreds  of  letters  from  every  section  con- 
gratulating" me  upon  the  stand  I  had  taken  and  the  letter 
was  copied  in  practically  every  paper  of  the  State.  My 
decision  was  A'ery  generally  commended,  though  there 
were  a  few  who  predicted  that  it  was  a  fatal  mistake 
for  me  politically  and  that  it  would  prove  the  end  of 
my  connection  with  Oregon  politics.  The  phrase  "mis- 
cellaneous candidate"  was  taken  up  as  being  especially 
"catchy,"  and  for  many  months  w^as  a  popular  slogan  in 
the  discussion  of  events  and  prospects  in  our  rapidly 
changing  political  maneuvers. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  407 

At  once  there  was  a  general  movement  among  my 
friends  to  secure  my  nomination  for  Governor  and  the 
proposition  appeared  to  grow  in  favor  as  the  months 
went  by.  My  only  competitor  was  Governor  Lord  him- 
self, whose  term  was  drawing  to  a  close  and  for  whose 
election  I  had  canvassed  the  State  four  years  before. 
His  home  ^\•as  in  Marion  County,  as  was  mine,  and  he 
had  the  county,  as  well  as  the  Salem  city  government, 
in  his  favor;  naturally,  he  had  also  the  support  of  the 
different  State  institutions.  The  combination  made  it 
a  very  hotly  contested  primary  campaign,  for  it  was 
understood  that  if  either  lost  Marion  County  he  would 
be  out  of  the  race. 

The  result  was  that  I  carried  every  precinct  in  the 
county  but  the  one  in  which  Go\ernor  Lord  lived,  though 
the  vote  was  so  close  that  many  of  the  large  ones  were 
carried  by  my  friends  by  a  margin  of  only  two  or  three 
votes. 

With  Governor  Lord  declining  to  carry  the  contest 
any  further,  I  had  no  opposition  in  the  State  Convention, 
which  met  in  Astoria  in  April,  and  was  nominated  there 
by  acclamation— the  only  instance  of  the  kind  in  the 
history  of  the  Republican  party  of  Oregon. 

I  did  not  attend  the  Astoria  Convention — indeed,  it 
will  no  doubt  surprise  many  of  my  most  intimate  friends 
to  be  told  that  I  never  attended  a  State  con\'ention  in 
my  life  as  a  delegate,  and  but  once  as  a  spectator,  in 
1894,  when  Judge  Lord  was  nominated  over  Charles  W. 
Fulton.  On  that  occasion  I  w^as  an  onlooker  for  an  hour. 
When  the  Astoria  Convention  was  in  session  I  was  at 
home  on  my  farm.  It  was  the  season  of  the  year  for 
"working  the  roads"  and,  together  with  a  dozen  of  the 
neighbors,  I  was  manipulating  the  business  end  of  a 
long-handled  shovel  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  a  group  of  children,  returning  from  school  at 
Macleay,  saw  me  in  the  distance  and  began  to  shout 
the  news  that  had  reached  there  before  they  left. 

How  I  first  heard  of  my  nomination  for  Governor 
got  into  the  papers,  in  some  way,  and  the  opposition 


4o8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

took  it  up  as  a  "fairy  story,  put  forth  for  political  effect," 
etc. ;  but  this  is  the  true  account  of  it — not  at  all  remark- 
able when  the  circumstances  leading  up  to  it  are  recalled. 

In  a  book  of  this  character  I  could  not  do  less  than 
to  give  this  abbreviated  account  of  an  incident  in  Oregon 
politics  of  which  I  happened  to  be  a  central  figure,  and 
which  occasioned  as  much  feeling  and  excitement  as 
any  other  minor  event  in  our  history.  By  degrees  T  had 
been  drawn  into  a  prominence  which  I  had  not  courted, 
and  the  great  McKinley-Bryan  campaign  had,  without 
any  desire  on  my  part,  thrust  me  somewhat  to  the  fore 
in  the  State  campaign.  It  had  been  a  hard  contest  and 
the  triumph  was  won  by  a  very  small  margin.  I  had  not 
wanted  to  be  a  Presidential  elector,  and  realizing  that  I 
was  nominated  largely  as  a  sahe  to  the  wound  I  re- 
ceived at  the  District  Convention,  when  I  failed  to  receive 
the  nomination  for  Congress,  I  thought  seriously  at  first 
of  declining  the  honor. 

The  Oregon  City  Land  Office  affair  created  a  great 
furore  at  the  time  and  the  delegation  in  Congress  was 
denounced  with  much  harshness  on  account  of  it;  but  the 
unpleasant  features  of  it  soon  passed  away  and  its  mem- 
bers and  myself  were  afterwards  the  same  friends  we  had 
been  for  years  before.  Thomas  H.  Tongue  remained  in 
Congress  until  his  death,  in  December.  1902,  grew^  in 
popularity  both  at  home  and  with  his  colleagues  at 
Washington,  and  his  demise  was  a  great  loss  to  Oregon. 
He  was  a  man  of  especial  ability,  of  untiring  industry 
and  a  very  forceful  speaker. 

Senator  George  W.  McBride  retired  from  the  Senate 
at  the  expiration  of  his  term  in  \()0\  and  was  at  once 
appointed  by  President  McKinley  as  one  of  the  Govern- 
ment Commissioners  at  the  St.  Louis  Exposition,  which 
position  he  held  for  four  years.  For  twenty  years  he 
suffered  from  a  distressing  physical  ailment,  but  through 
it  all  was  a  marvel  of  fortitude  and  optimism.  Much  of 
the  time  during  his  eight  years'  service  as  Secretary  of 
State  he  was  bedfast,  but  supervised  his  work  without 
cessation.      During  his   six   years'   term   in    the    Senate 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  409 

he  was  also  a  constant  victim  of  bodily  infirmities. 
After  a  remarkable  career,  he  passed  away  at  his  home 
in  Portland  during  the  present  summer,  in  the  month 
of  June. 

William  R.  Ellis  was  defeated  for  renomination  at  the 
Astoria  Convention,  after  serving  in  Congress  for  six 
years,  but  was  at  once  elected  judge  of  his  district  in 
eastern  Oregon.  At  the  end  of  his  six-year  term,  he 
declined  a  renomination  and  sought  an  endorsement  for 
his  former  place  in  Congress  under  the  direct  primary 
law  which  had  been  adopted.  In  this  he  was  successful, 
but  after  serving  two  terms  was  defeated  for  a  third 
one  in  April  of  this  3^ear — 191 1.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Ellis 
it  may  be  said  that  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  defeating 
me  for  the  Congressional  nomination  at  the  primary 
election  in  April,  IQ08 — if  it  was  any  satisfaction,  which 
is  doubtful,  since  he  probably  cherishes  no  more  resent- 
ful feeling  than  I  do  over  that  affair  way  back  in  '97, 
when  we  were  all  playing  the  game  of  politics  in  deadly 
earnest. 

For  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of  any  Oregonian 
of  middle  age  AV.  R.  Ellis  is  in  private  life;  but  nobody 
in  his  sane  senses  would  wager  a  sixpence  that  he  will 
not  be  holding  a  remunerative  public  position  before 
another  biennial  period  rolls  around. 


CHAPTER  LllI 

There  was  a  fusion  of  the  Democrats  and  PopuHsts 
against  the  RepubHcan  ticket  in  1898,  especially  against 
the  candidate  for  Governor.  The  two  parties  nominated 
W.  R.  King,  of  Baker  County,  a  prominent  lawyer  of 
Baker  City,  who  had  served  as  a  member  of  the  lower 
House  in  the  Legislative  session  of  1893  and  as  State 
Senator  in  the  two  succeeding  sessions. 

Naturally,  the  burden  of  the  speaking  campaign  fell 
to  my  lot  and,  with  the  State  Committee,  I  arranged  an 
itinerary  which  included  every  county  in  the  State.  I 
carried  it  out,  thus  accomplishing  what,  it  was  said,  had 
never  been  done  before  in  one  campaign.  It  began  at 
Toledo,  in  Lincoln  County,  on  May  i,  and  ended  at 
Vale,  Malheur  County,  on  the  Saturday  night  before  the 
election  on  Monday,  June  6.  It  was  an  exceedingly 
hard  campaign  to  make,  much  of  the  time  requiring  a 
day's  travel  by  stage,  running  well  into  the  night,  ter- 
minating with  accommodations  that  were  unpleasant  in 
the  extreme;  but  the  game  was  big  and  worth  a  j^ro- 
tracted  struggle. 

George  M.  Brown,  of  Roseburg.  was  the  attornev  for 
that  district  and  a  candidate  for  re-election.  He  had 
read  that  I  was  going  into  Coos  and  Curry  counties, 
and  as  they  were  a  part  of  his  district,  he  wrote  asking 
me  to  come  to  Roseburg  on  the  evening  before  I  was 
to  speak  at  Myrtle  Point,  some  seventy-five  miles  from 
Roseburg,  saying  that  we  would  leave  by  private  con- 
veyance at  six  o'clock,  drive  twenty  miles  of  the  distance 
in  "the  cool  of  the  evening."  and  thus  make  a  shorter 
trip  the  next  day.  I  accepted  his  invitation  and  we 
started  to  the  western  coast  at  six  o'clock  from  Rose- 
burg over  a  splendid  road,  "every  foot  of  which  I  am 
familiar  with,  and  I  know  all  the  people  along  it  like 

410 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  411 

a  book,"  said  Brown.  "We  will  drive  until  dark  and 
stay  all  night  with  some  of  my  old  friends.  Any  of 
them  will  be  glad  to  see  us." 

It  was  a  most  delightful  drive,  being  one  of  the  first 
balmy  days  in  May.  The  farms  along  the  road  were  at 
their  best — and  a  well-kept  southern  Oregon  farm  is  a 
delight  to  look  upon,  even  to  live  upon.  We  enjoyed  the 
l)eautiful  turns  in  the  road,  shaded  by  the  ancient  black 
oaks,  and  the  delicious  perfume  of  the  freshly  budding 
wild  flowers  that  abounded  everywhere.  We  discussed  our 
respecti\e  prospects  for  election,  detailed  the  many  mis- 
takes the  enemy  had  made — as  we  saw  them — and  the  sun 
was  setting  before  we  realized  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 
But  the  moon  \\'as  kind  and  we  appreciated  the  l)enefi- 
cence  of  Dame  Nature,  unlike  the  colored  man  who,  being 
something  of  a  philosopher,  moralized  after  this  fashion : 
*T  don't  see  no  use  of  the  moon,  nohow.  He  never 
shines  only  on  a  right  light  night,  and  when  it's  dark 
he  neber  shows  hisself!"  But  Brown  and  I  were  in  a 
different  mood.  Every  prospect  was  pleasing  and  only 
man  was  to  be  distrusted.  Finally,  about  eight  o'clock, 
Brown  said : 

"Now,  there  is  a  house  where  a  splendid  man  lives 
and  we  will  stay  all  night  with  him." 

When  we  drove  up  in  front  of  the  house,  seeing  his 
friend  in  the  yard.  Brown  shouted  to  him  as  only  a  candi- 
date can  greet  a  man  when  a  campaign  is  on : 

"Hello,  there,  old  man !  We  are  out  campaigning 
and  would  like  to  stav  all  night  with  you.     How  is  it?" 

"W^hy,  hello.  Brown  !"  he  said.  "I  am  awfully  glad 
to  see  you.  but  the  fact  is  we  have  company  to-night  and 
are  chuck  full.     Sorry." 

After  a  short  conversation  on  local  topics,  we  drove 
on  a  mile  farther,  when  we  came  to  the  home  of  another 
of  Brown's  friends  and  found  him  sitting  on  the  fence 
by  the  front  gate.  Brown  at  once  introduced  me  and 
said  we  would  like  to  stay  all  night  and  get  feed  for 
our  horses. 

"Why,"  said  the  man,  "I  have  room  for  you  two  men, 


412  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

but  haven't  a  grain  of  horse  feed  left.  Not  long  till 
harvest,  you  know,  and  I  sold  all  my  oats  last  week. 
But  Smith,  on  ahead  two  miles,  has  a  lot  of  oats  left, 
I'm  sure." 

So  we  drove  on  to  Smith's  and  found  him  going  from 
his  barn  to  his  house,  and,  sure  enough,  he  had  an 
abundance  of  oats,  but  his  son-in-law  and  wife  were 
there  on  a  visit  and  his  spare  rooms  were  all  occupied. 
He,  also,  regretted  the  circumstance  which  made  it  im- 
possible to  entertain  us. 

"Well,"  said  Brown,  as  we  proceeded  on  our  way  (it 
was  now  past  nine  o'clock),  "the  next  man  has  a  large 
Iiouse  and  a  big  farm,  and  I'll  bet  that  we  will  find 
things  all  right  there."  It  was  but  a  mile  farther  on 
to  this  place  and  soon,  as  were  made  a  curve  in  the  road, 
we  saw  the  house.  It  was  apparently  lighted  from 
cellar  to  garret.  They  were  at  home,  all  right,  and 
things  looked  good  for  us — almost  too  good,  I  remember 
I  said  to  Brown.  It  looked  as  though  they  might  be 
giving  an  entertainment.  Arriving  at  the  house,  Brown 
gave  a  shout  that  brought  the  owner  of  the  premises 
out  to  the  gate  and  he  gave  us  a  very  hearty  greeting. 
Brov/n  told  him  our  troubles  and  said  he  hoped  we  could 
get  lodging  and  feed  for  our  horses,  as  it  was  then  ten 
o'clock  and  we  were  as  hungry  as  hired  men. 

"Well,  now,"  said  the  farmer,  "it's  too  bad.  I've 
got  all  kinds  of  horsefeed  and  several  spare  rooms,  but 
the  fact  is,  Brown,  we  are  expecting  an  addition  to  the 
family  any  minute  now  and,  reall^^  yoti  know,  it  would 
be  a  little  eml^arrassing  to  have  company  at  such  a  time, 
especially  the  District  Attorney  and  the  next  Governor 
of  Oregon !" 

This  information  occasioned  all  three  of  us  much  mer- 
riment, and  we  finally  concurred  in  the  opinion  of  our 
friend  that  it  would  be  a  little  awkward  to  remain  there 
over  night.     As  we  resumed  our  journey  Brown  said : 

"Well  don't  this  beat  h ?"     But  we  voted  it  great 

fun. 

About    four    miles    farther    on    we   came    to    Camas 


'.,>  .'^\ ,',.' '    '''  ' '''  '  '^ 


■J 

O 


W 


FIFTY  YEARS   L\  ORFGON  413 

Prairie,  wiiere  lived  a  preacher  named  Coon,  one  of  the 
old-fashioned  kind  who  was  about  three- fourths  re- 
tired, being  then  fully  eighty  years  of  age.  Brown  knew 
him  well,  he  said,  and  though  it  was  then  just  twelve 
o'clock,  he  was  sure  we  could  get  accommodations  w'ith- 
out  trouble.  His  good  wife  was  seventy-five  years  old, 
so  we  felt  that  at  least  one  of  the  obstacles  we  had 
encounteretl  would  not  meet  us  here ;  and,  as  for  the 
horses,  it  would  be  better  for  them  to  rest  without  food 
than  to  travel  without  it. 

We  found  the  old  people  had  retired,  of  course,  but 
by  a  persistent  rapping  at  the  door  we  aroused  the  old 
gentleman.  Upon  ascertaining  who  it  was,  he  was 
hospitality  itself.  He  dressed  himself,  went  with  us  to 
the  barn,  fed  the  horses  and  upon  returning  to  the  house 
explained  that,  as  it  was  very  late,  perhaps  we  would 
not  object  to  going  to  the  pantry  and  helping  ourselves 
to  whate\er  we  could  find.  In  fact,  we  Avere  ready  to 
suggest  this  ourseKes  when  he  had  said  perhaps  we 
would  'Svant  a  bite  to  eat."  The  result  was  Brown  and 
I  stood  in  the  pantry  of  old  Mr.  Co(jn  at  a  half-hour  past 
midnight,  and  ate  such  a  hearty  meal  of  cold  biscuits 
and  potatoes,  sandwiched  with  ham.  as  would  have 
done  credit  to  two  hungry  harvest  hands. 

.At  ]Marshfield.  two  days  later,  I  w-as  joined  by 
Charles  S.  Moore,  of  Klamath  County,  the  Republican 
candidate  for  State  Treasurer,  and  we  traveled  together 
from  that  date  until  the  close  of  the  campaign.  We 
made  the  trip  from  Lakeview  to  Burns,  some  two 
hundred  miles,  across  what  is  known  as  the  Desert,  most 
of  the  houses  being  about  fifty  miles  apart.  He  proved 
a  most  congenial  traveling  companion,  as  he  afterward 
did  a  ^•ery  oljliging  and  efficient  State  Treasurer.  He 
made  no  speeches  but  did  the  "glad  hand"  act  to  per- 
fection. He  fre(|uently  explained  to  people  privately 
that  I  did  the  public  talking,  while  he  was  along  to  add 
respectability  to  the  affair.  He  was  then  judge  of 
Klamath  County,  with  a  salary  of  seven  hundred  dollars 
a  vear.      At  that  time  the  constitulional   salary  of  the 


414  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

Treasurer  of  Oregon  was  but  eight  hundred  dollars,  it 
being  the  custom  for  that  official  to  lend  the  State  funds 
that  might  be  on  hand  at  intervals  and  retain  the  interest 
thus  secured.  His  bonds  were  very  heavy,  and  since  the 
salary  was  so  small,  it  was  necessary  to  justify  in  this 
manner  his  acceptance  of  the  office.  Owing  to  that 
custom  it  was  the  most  remunerative  position  under  the 
State  Government. 

When  the  meeting  at  Drain,  in  Douglas  County,  was 
held,  I  was  introducing  Mr.  Moore  to  several  of  the 
farmers  who  had  come  to  hear  the  speaking,  having 
myself  been  there  in  many  previous  campaigns,  and  had 
said  to  Mr.  Jones : 

"Meet  Hon.  Charles  S.  Moore,  of  Klamath  County, 
our  nominee  for  State  Treasurer.  He  is  now  judge  of 
that  count V." 

Farmer  Jones  was  pleased  to  meet  Mr.  Moore  and, 
by  way  of  making  conversation,  said : 

"What  is  the  salary  of  a  judge  in  Klamath  County?" 

"Seven  hundred  dollars  a  year,"  replied  the  Judge. 

"And  what  does  the  State  Treasurer  get?"  continued 
Jones. 

This  was  a  stunner  to  Moore,  but,  with  a  smile  on 
his  face  as  he  glanced  toward  me,  he  replied, 

"Eight  hundred  dollars,"  for  there  was  nothing  else 
to  say,  since  there  was  no  law,  statute  or  constitutional, 
for  any  other  remuneration. 

"Well,"  said  Jones,  "of  course  a  hundred  dollars  is 
worth  looking  after  these  times,"  and  the  incident  was 
over,  the  farmer  being  perfectly  satisfied  that  Judge 
Moore  was  justified  in  making  the  change,  since  the 
additional  returns  would  be  a  cool  hundred  dollars. 

In  traveling  from  Lakeview  to  Burns  one  is  obliged 
to  furnish  his  own  transportation,  and  since  that  point 
was  the  terminus  of  the  stage  line  Judge  Moore  and 
I  hired  a  team  and  buggy  with  which  to  make  the 
journey,  going  by  way  of  Paisley.  We  also  hired  a 
boy  to  ride  on  horseback  to  Burns  to  take  the  team  back 
to  Lakeview.     For  this  we  paid  fifty  dollars,  and  we 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  415 

agreed,  as  we  rode  along  discussing  every  topic  we  could 
think  of  from  Adam's  probable  delinquency  in  that  dress 
parade  affair  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  to  the  prevailing 
price  of  hops,  that  we  could  ordinarily  buy  on  any 
Indian  reservation  in  Oregon  two  such  horses  as  we 
were  driving  for  ten  dollars  each,  while  the  buggy  was 
not  worth  a  cent  more  than  twenty  dollars.  We  were 
sorry  we  hadn't  bought  the  outfit  outright,  giving  it 
afterwards  to  some  man  in  Burns  who  was  financially 
able  to  accept  it,  for  no  really  poor  man  could  afford  to 
maintain  it. 

One  day  on  this  trip  we  drove  from  morning  till 
night  without  seeing  a  house.  When  evening  came  we 
stopped  with  a  family  consisting  of  a  man  and  wife,  and 
some  eleven  children,  of  course.  Why  they  were  there 
we  never  knew,  but  we  voted  it  a  dispensation  of  Divine 
Providence  that  they  had  not  located  elsewhere.  The 
night  was  cold  and  we  had  a  huge  fire  in  a  very  large 
fireplace,  the  fuel  used  being  a  thrifty  growth  of  sage- 
brush. The  fireplace  was  as  large  as  the  entire  end  of  the 
room.  As  building  material  was  very  expensive  in  that 
remote  region,  of  course  there  was  a  feature  of  economy 
in  thus  saving  nearly  one-fourth  of  the  cost  of  the  shack. 
The  man  had  a  wheelbarrow  on  which  he  had  constructed 
a  light  frame  almost  as  large  as  the  ordinary  farm  hay- 
rack, and  with  this  he  would  make  raids  on  the  adjacent 
ridges  and  hollows,  returning  with  a  load  of  sage-brush 
which,  after  being  dumped  out.  would  make  a  pile  rival- 
ing the  house  itself  in  its  proportions.  Of  course  this 
sort  of  fuel  was  soon  consumed  and  the  individual  who 
did  the  wheelbarrow  stunt  was  kept  so  busy  at  his  job 
that  he  had  no  use  for  the  artificial  heat  his  fuel 
produced. 

Judge  IMoore  and  I  were  put  in  a  bed  that  night  which 
was  supported  by  a  single  post  placed  some  feet  from 
the  wall :  on  this  rested  two  "rails," — real  rails,  too, — 
which  reached  to  the  two  walls.  This  was  not  particu- 
larly objectionable,  considering  the  circumstances  (and 
the  nature  of  our  mission),  but  about  two  o'clock,  while 


4i6  FIFT\^  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

I  was  dreaming  of  the  avalanche  which  1  hoped  was 
going  to  overvvhehn  Will  R.  King,  I  was  conscious  of 
a  falhng  sensation,  which  developed  into  the  sudden  dis- 
covery that  the  connection  between  the  rails  and  the 
supporting  post  in  the  middle  of  the  room  had  been 
severed  in  some  way  and  that  Judge  JMoore  and  I  were 
nearly  in  a  sitting  posture.  To  remain  in  that  attitude 
until  morning  was  impossible  and  the  only  alternative 
was  to  call  upon  our  host  for  assistance.  This  was  soon 
furnished,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  hammer  and  nails, 
which  he  found  after  a  diligent  search  of  a  half  an  hour, 
we  repaired  the  breach — T  doing  the  actual  carpenter 
work,  while  the  other  two  indulged  in  near  jokes  at  my 
appearance,  all  of  us  arrayed  in  costumes  which  would 
have  been  more  appropriate  for  the  beach  or  a  fashion- 
able ballroom. 

There  were  no  further  mishaps,  other  than  those  which 
might  naturally  be  expected,  and  we  reached  Burns  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  our  journey. 


CHAPTER  LIV 

Much  of  the  journey  from  Lakeview  to  Burns,  a 
distance  equal  to  the  width  of  many  of  the  Eastern 
States,  is  across  a  cheerless  desert,  as  before  stated, 
covered  largely  with  sage-brush.  Much  of  it  is  very 
rocky,  and  yet  in  the  winter  and  early  spring  months  it 
is  surprising  to  see  what  great  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep 
are  supported  by  native  winter  grass  which,  in  some 
astonishing  way,  obtains  and  maintains  a  foothold.  For 
this  reason  it  is  a  fine  stock  countr}^  at  that  season  of 
the  year  when  the  better  ranges  require  a  rest. 

At  Burns  we  were  joined  by  ]\Ialcolm  A.  Moody,  who 
had  defeated  Mr.  Ellis  for  the  Republican  nomination  for 
Congress  at  Astoria,  and  from  then  until  the  close  of 
the  campaign  he  traveled  with  us.  Mr.  ]\Toody  is  the 
eldest  son  of  ex-Governor  Z.  1^"".  Moody,  a  nati\'e  son  of 
Oregon,  and  was  elected  b}/-  a  large  majority.  He  was 
re-elected  two  years  later,  but  was  defeated  for  a  re- 
nomination  in  1902  b}^  J.  N.  Williamson,  of  Prineville. 
Tvlr,  Moody  developed  a  splendid  talent  for  the  work 
of  a  Western  Congressman  and  had  won  the  esteem  of 
all  his  colleagues  when,  owing  to  an  unfortunate  fight 
within  the  ranks  of  the  Republican  party,  he  was  set 
aside.  This  action  of  the  Republicans  of  his  district  was 
not  only  a  disappointment  to  Mr.  Moody  but  was  a  de- 
cided loss  to  the  public  service.  He  has  frequently  been 
urged  since  then  to  re-enter  the  political  arena,  but  has 
steadfastly  declined,  giving  as  a  reason  the  uncertain 
tenure  of  political  life,  the  petty  motives  which  so  often 
govern  those  who.  for  the  time  being,  have  the  power 
to  control  situations  and  the  capricious  tendencies  of 
men  who  should  be  above  the  influence  of  passing  fads. 
"Never  again !"  says  Moody,  and  the  public  has  lost 
the  able  services  of  an  industrious  worker. 

417 


4i8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

At  Burns  we  also  found  J.  W.  Morrow,  the  Demo- 
cratic candidate  for  State  Senator  for  that  district,  who 
we  suspected  had  come  thither  at  that  time  in  order  to 
reap  such  benefits  as  might  accrue  to  his  candidacy 
from  being  present  at  the  big  RepubHcan  meeting  of 
the  campaign.  At  any  rate,  he  was  there,  and  engaged  in 
shaking  more  RepubHcan  hands,  inside  the  hall  and  out, 
than  all  the  Republican  candidates  combined.  There  w^as 
no  stage  line  then  running  to  Canyon  City,  the  next 
meeting  place,  and  since  there  were,  all  told,  about  a 
dozen  candidates  who  desired  to  make  connections  with- 
out fail,  we  hired  a  "carry-all"  and  started  toward  that 
famous  mining  center  of  the  early  '6o's.  We  had  no 
driver,  at  least  none  who  had  the  courage  to  tackle  a 
four-horse  proposition,  and  in  this  extremity  "Billy" 
Morrow  offered  his  services.  ]\Iost  of  us  were  little 
inclined  to  accept  them,  since  he  w-as  the  only  Democrat 
in  the  crow'd  and  several  of  us  w^ere  running  for  some 
mighty  big  offices.  We  feared  that  he  was  an  emissary 
of  the  Democratic  State  Committee  looking  for  this  very 
opportunity  to  put  us  out  of  commission,  especially  as 
we  had  known  him  for  thirty  years  and  had  never  heard 
of  his  having  anything  to  do  with  horses  in  any  capacity, 
though  he  assured  us  that  he  had  driven  a  stage  for  a 
good  part  of  his  life.  The  road  from  Burns  to  Canyon 
City  is  for  a  great  part  of  the  way  over  a  mountainous 
country,  and  in  places  the  grades  are  along  the  sides  of 
precipitous  slopes  where  a  designing  driver  could  maim 
a  dozen  passengers  and  at  the  same  time  save  his  own 
life. 

But  "Billy"  proved  not  only  game  but  reliable  and 
"landed"  us  at  Canyon  City  the  second  day,  himself 
covered  with  glory  and  dust.  Incidentally,  he  was 
elected  to  the  State  Senate  in  that  strongly  Republican 
district. 

Canyon  City  was  one  of  the  best  known  of  the  mining 
camps  in  eastern  Oregon  during  the  boom  of  1863-4. 
I  had  never  been  there  before  and  was  especially  pleased 
to  visit  the  spot  where  my  father  had  spent  two  years 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  419 

when  the  mining  excitement  was  at  its  height.  It  was 
here.  also,  that  Joaquin  Miller,  Oregon's  famous  poet, 
made  his  home  in  the  early  days  and  where  he  served 
as  judge  of  the  new  county  of  Grant.  His  old  home  was 
still  there,  surrounded  by  unkept  apple  trees  of  his  own 
planting  in  1863,  which  almost  hid  from  view  the  little 
house  which  he  built  with  his  own  hands  before  the 
poetic  muse  claimed  him  for  her  own. 

It  was  in  Canyon  City,  also,  that  Phil  Metschan.  one 
of  Oregon's  most  prominent  and  popular  citizens,  settled, 
in  1862,  in  his  earlv  manhood.  Mr.  Metschan's  career 
reads  more  like  fiction  than  fact,  and  proves  once  more 
that  pluck  and  a  character  which  will  win  the  confidence 
of  his  fellows  are  the  very  best  assets  with  which  a  young 
man  can  be  equipped  when  he  starts  out  on  his  life- 
work. 

Mr.  Metschan  was  bom  in  Hesse-Cassel,  Germany,  in 
1840.  When  fourteen  years  of  age  he  decided  to  come 
to  America  and  spend  his  life  in  the  Western  world.  His 
mother's  brother  had  already  come  to  this  country  and 
was  engaged  in  the  butchering  business  in  Cincinnati. 
When  Phil  decided  to  come  to  America  he  did  not  know 
one  word  of  English,  but  his  people  were  anxious  for 
him  to  join  his  uncle  and  carve  out  his  future  under  the 
more  favorable  circumstances  which  prevailed  in  this 
country. 

"When  I  got  ready  to  start."  said  Mr.  Metschan,  "my 
mother  packed  all  my  belongings  in  a  trunk  which  was 
nearly  as  big  as  one  of  the  horse-cars  that  were  used 
on  the  streets  then.  They  saw  me  aboard  the  ship  at 
Hamburg  and  I  had  no  trouble  until  I  got  to  New  York. 
T  couldn't  speak  a  word  of  English,  but  as  there  was 
nothing  to  do  on  ship  but  eat  and  sleep,  and  as  both 
could  be  done  in  one  language  as  well  as  in  another,  all 
went  well  until  we  landed.  Then  my  troubles  began.  I  had 
a  ticket  out  to  Cincinnati,  but  the  railroad  lines  in  those 
days  did  not  belong  to  one  company,  as  now,  and  only 
ran  from  one  big  city  to  another.  But  my  trunk  was 
my  salvation      T  found  that  when  it  came  time  to  change 


420  FIFTY  YRARS   [N  ORRGON 

cars  T  would  have  no  (Hflicully  if  I  followed  my  trunk. 
So,  when  we  arrived  at  a  new  terminus,  1  would  ,<;et 
out  on  the  platform  and  closely  watch  the  operations 
at  the  baggage  car.  If  my  trunk  was  left  aboard  I  woukl 
re-enter  my  coach  and  remain  there,  but  if  I  saw  it 
changed  to  another  train,  1  would  Ijoard  that  and  remain 
with  it  until  it  was  changed  again.  By  this  means  I 
reached  Cincinnati  without  any  mishap  and  was  thankful 
that  it  was  no  worse." 

"Then  you  really  traveled  on  a  trunk  line,  even  in 
those  days,"  interposed  a  listener  to  his  interesting  narra- 
tive. Phil  smiled  and  added  that,  come  to  think  of  it, 
"that  must  have  been  the  first  trunk  line  running  west 
of  New  York." 

Arriving  in  Cincinnati.  Metschan  remained  v/ith  his 
uncle  four  years,  thoroughly  learning  the  butcher's  busi- 
ness. In  1858  lie  went  to  Kansas,  the  next  year  to  Cali- 
fornia, and  after  drifting  about  for  a  year  spent  the 
winter  of  1861  working  on  a  ranch  in  the  vSacramento 
valley.  He  avers  that  he  actually  drove  a  team  and 
plowed  for  several  months,  but  his  friends,  who  orcH- 
narily  believe  anything  he  says,  have  never  quite  ac- 
cepted that  statement.  Nothing  they  can  conjecture 
would  at  this  time  afTord  a  more  ludicrous  spectacle  than 
to  see  Phil  Metschan  between  two  plow  handles,  while 
a  span  of  mules  was  receiving  his  directions  and  objur- 
gations   in   a   language   that    was    neither    English   nor 


German. 


After  settling  in  Canyon  City  Mr.  Metschan  was  elected 
city  treasurer  for  two  terms,  two  years  as  county  clerk, 
four  years  as  county  judge,  and  afterwards  another  term 
as  county  clerk.  There  were  no  other  offices  in  Grant 
County  at  that  time,  so  it  was  necessary  to  "rotate"  Phil 
in  order  to  satisfy  the  public. 

In  1890  he  was  nominated  by  the  Republicans  for 
vState  Treasurer  and  was  elected,  being  reelected  in  1894, 
serving  in  that  responsible  ]iosition  for  eight  years. 
Soon  after  his  retirement  he  purchased  an  interest  in  the 
Imperial  Hotel  in  Portland,  and  has  since,  with  his  four 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  421 

sons  as  partners,  secured  the  entire  stock  of  that  popular 
hostelry. 

Within  a  week  after  he  was  nominated  for  State 
Treasurer  I  visited  my  father  in  Union  County.  He 
was  inquiring  with  much  interest  about  the  personnel  of 
the  State  ticket  and  finally  asked  me  who  the  man 
INIetschan  was  who  had  been  nominated  for  State  Treas- 
urer. I  replied  that  I  had  never  heard  of  him  before, 
but  that  he  was  from  Canyon  City,  had  lived  there  for 
thirty  years,  and  that  some  one  had  told  me  that  he  was 
a  butcher.  After  studying  a  moment,  father  suddenly 
said  with  much  animation : 

"What's  his  first  name?" 

"Thil,"  I  said. 

"Well,  by  George,"  said  he.  "I'll  bet  it's  'Phil,  the 
Butcher.'  " 

And  it  was.  I  was  sufficiently  interested  then  to 
inquire  further  when  I  had  an  opportunity,  and  ascer- 
tained that  in  the  early  days  in  Canyon  City,  as  was 
usual  in  mining  camps,  Metschan's  first  name  was  all 
anybody  knew  or  cared  to  know.  So  many  men  went 
to  the  mines  as  adventurers  whose  chief  desire  was  to 
cut  themselves  loose  from  their  former  associates  and 
acquaintances  that  it  was  often  painful  to  be  questioned, 
so  "any  old  name"  was  sufllcient,  and  undue  curiosity 
was  frequently  accompanied  by  undesirable  consequences 
to  the  "butter  in." 

My  father  had  lived  in  Canyon  City  only  during  the 
first  two  years  of  Metschan's  residence  there,  and  though 
they  were  intimate  friends  during  that  period,  "Phil,  the 
Butcher"  was  the  only  name  by  which  the  future  State 
Treasurer  was  known  among  his  customers  and  every- 
day acquaintances. 


CHAPTER  LV 

Upon  entering  Burns  after  our  long  desert  ride  we 
discovered  that  the  Democratic  State  Committee  had 
secured  large  lithographs  of  Mr.  King,  the  Democratic 
candidate  for  Governor,  and  had  the  town  plastered 
with  them.  They  were  to  be  seen  on  every  telephone 
pole,  barn,  fence  and  other  object  large  enough  to  hold 
one.  I  was  not  a  little  chagrined  to  know  that  this  very 
effective  means  of  advertising  had  been  adopted  by  the 
opposition.  Of  course  it  was  quite  expensive,  and,  as 
there  had  been  no  proposition  to  pursue  a  like  course 
among  our  people,  I  at  once  took  high  grounds  against 
such  an  unseemly  method  of  exploiting  one's  candidacy. 
Many  of  my  friends  at  Burns  inquired  why  this  mode 
had  not  been  adopted  by  the  Republican  State  Com- 
mittee, expressing  the  opinion  that  it  was  very  effective 
in  increasing  the  popularity  of  a  candidate,  especially  if 
he  w^as  a  good-looking  man,  as  King  was.  To  this  I 
replied  that,  although  nothing  had  been  said  on  the  sub- 
ject by  our  State  Committee  before  leaving  Portland.  I 
was  very  much  opposed  personally  to  such  a  loud  method 
of  advertising — it  was  in  bad  taste;  furthermore,  I  re- 
garded it  as  an  exhibition  of  the  weakness  of  tlie  candi- 
date that  it  was  necessary  thus  to  depend  upon  his  facial 
expression  rather  than  his  merits,  natural  and  acquired. 

On  the  way  over  to  Canyon  City  we  found  King's 
picture  on  every  rim-rock  and  stump  along  the  road  and 
the  town  was  full  of  them.  Again  I  felt  the  necessity 
of  explaining  to  my  inquiring  friends  that  there  was 
nothing  in  that  sort  of  advertising  except  to  emphasize 
the  weakness  of  the  candidate  who  would  resort  to  it.  and 
that,  besides,  there  was  a  species  of  vanity  about  it  from 
which  I,  being  a  very  modest  man,  naturally  shrank,  etc. 
My  companions  were  disposed  to  "josh"  me  about  the 

422 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  423 

enterprise  shown  by  Mr.  King's  friends  and  they  all 
seemed  convinced  that  it  would  gain  him  many  thous- 
ands of  votes — perhaps  result  in  my  defeat  unless  coun- 
teracted in  some  manner.  To  this  I  replied  that  I  would 
not  adopt  such  unseemly  methods  to  secure  votes,  even 
if  I  were  assured  that  such  neglect  would  cost  me  the 
prize  for  which  I  was  contesting.  I  took  a  high  stand, 
and  ridiculed  the  extreme  measures  to  which  parties  in 
these  degenerate  times  would  stoop  to  attain  success. 

I  remember  that  about  one  mile  before  we  reached 
Suinpter,  in  Baker  County,  there  appeared  to  be  a  King 
picture  on  every  shrub  and  log,  not  counting  the  stand- 
ing trees,  and.  as  a  means  of  suppressing  the  comments 
of  my  companions  as  to  how  many  votes  the  matter 
would  cause  King  to  run  ahead  of  his  ticket,  I  began 
again  to  moralize  on  the  bad  taste  of  thus  flaunting  one's 
countenance  before  the  world  with  the  hope  of  securing 
votes,  adding  that  the  probable  efifect  would  be  to  drive 
thoughtful  men  away,  etc.,  etc.  Suddenly,  as  the  stage 
swung  around  a  bend  in  the  road  and  we  came  in  full 
view  of  a  new  barn.  Moody  shouted : 

"Hello,  whose  picture  is  that?    Hey,  look  here,  boys." 

And  there,  tacked  on  the  side  of  the  barn,  within 
two  feet  of  one  of  King's  pictures,  was  one  of  the  writer 
of  these  lines,  almost  life-size  and  executed  in  the  highest 
degree  of  the  lithographer's  art.  Everybody  looked,  of 
course,  and  the  shout  of  laughter  that  rent  the  mountain- 
side quite  equaled  in  volume  a  clap  of  rollicking  thunder. 
The  driver  stopped  the  team,  all  hands  got  out  and 
examined  the  specimen  at  close  range  and,  by  turns, 
dragged  me  hither  and  yon,  until  I  was  not  only  sore 
piiysically,  but  at  my  traveling  companions  as  well. 

It  Vx-as  a  great  joke  at  my  expense,  to  be  sure,  and 
I  did  not  hear  the  last  of  it  until  we  finally  disbanded 
on  the  night  before  the  election — for  those  horrid 
pictures,  though  very  true  to  life,  were  plastered  so 
thickly  over  every  available  object,  not  otherwise  ap- 
propriated, throughout  the  State  that  King's  little  edition 
appeared  like  a  feeble  experiment  only. 


424  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

My  colleagues  on  the  State  ticket  who  did  more  or 
less  active  campaigning  were,  besides  Judge  Moore.  F.  I. 
Dunbar,  candidate  for  Secretary  of  State,  and  J.  H. 
Ackerman,  candidate  for  Superintendent  of  Public  In- 
struction. Mr.  Dunbar  had  been  for  four  years  recorder 
of  Clatsop  County  and  was  at  that  time  just  concluding- 
two  terms  as  county  clerk.  He  had  been  a  very  capable 
officer  and  came  to  his  nomination  with  an  exceptionally 
good  record  for  efficient  serxices,  though  he  was  not 
known  at  all  throughout  the  State. 

There  was  another  Dunbar  living  in  Astoria  who  had 
been  publishing  a  paper  there  which  appeared  to  be  little 
more  than  a  blackmailing  sheet.  His  bitter  attacks  on 
local  men  had  involved  him  in  serious  trouble  many  times 
and  he  was  very  much  disliked.  In  fact,  he  served  quite 
a  long  sentence  in  the  county  jail  at  one  time  for 
defamation  of  character.  It  was  about  this  time  that 
F.  I.  Dunbar  had  been  nominated  for  recorder.  As  was 
customary,  several  candidates  hired  a  carriage  and  made 
a  trip  into  the  interior  of  the  county  in  the  interest  of 
their  respective  aspirations.  Their  first  trip  was  into  the 
Nehalem  Mountains,  about  thirty  miles  away,  where 
there  was  a  small  store  and  a  post-office.  Arriving  there 
after  dark,  the  candidate  who  had  charge  of  the  team 
and  did  the  driving  introduced  his  associates  to  the  land- 
lord, who,  by  the  way,  was  the  post-master  and  store- 
keeper. When  the  two  had  gone  to  the  barn  with  the 
team,  the  host  said  to  the  driver,  with  whom  he  was  well 
acquainted : 

"So  that's  Dunbar,  is  it?  Well,  I've  been  reading  a 
good  deal  about  him  lately  and  he  has  got  a  jail-bird 
face,  all  right,  hasn't  he?" 

As  the  joke  was  too  good  to  keep  under  cover,  the 
driver  told  it  to  Dunbar  the  next  day.  It  came  to  me 
one  day  after  the  election,  and  when  Moore,  Dunbar  and 
I,  as  the  State  Land  Board,  after  concluding  our  busi- 
ness for  that  sitting,  were  recounting  the  different  kinds 
of    experiences,    ludicrous    and    exasperating,    one    en- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  425 

counters  when  engaged  in  a  protracted  political  cam- 
paign. Dunbar  himself  related  it. 

Dunbar  served  for  eight  years  as  Secretary  of  State 
and  made  one  of  the  most  efficient  and  systematic 
officials  that  branch  of  the  State  government  has  ever 
known.  lie  is  now  living  a  very  quiet  life  in  his  home 
town.  Astoria,  to  whose  interests  he  is  very  much 
attached. 

J.  H.  Ackerman,  who  was  chosen  Superintendent  of 
Public  Instruction,  had  for  many  years  been  connected 
prominently  with  the  schools  of  Multnomah  County  and 
came  to  his  new  position  unusually  well  equipped  for 
the  duties  of  that  responsible  position.  Ackerman  is  so 
well  endowed  by  nature  with  those  qualities  which  con- 
stitute the  agreeable  man  that  nothing  could  pry  him 
loose  from  his  position  until  he  had  served  three  suc- 
cessive terms  of  four  years  each,  a  record  only  equaled 
once  before  in  the  history  of  Oregon — by  E.  B.  McElroy, 
in  the  same  position.  Ackerman  had  not  been  in  office 
three  months  until  he  had  visited  nearly  all  the  schools 
in  the  Willamette  valley,  and  before  his  first  year  had 
ended  he  had  been  in  every  remote  part  of  the  most 
distant  county.  By  that  time  it  w^as  surmised  that  he 
intended  to  be  a  candidate  for  re-election — killing  two 
birds  with  one  stone,  since  his  visits  were  always  helpful 
to  the  schools.  Before  the  end  of  his  first  term  he  had 
secured  the  active  support  of  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  the 
teachers  of  the  State,  and  the  other  one  per  cent,  had  no 
choice.  The  records  show^  that  fully  ninety-nine  per 
cent,  of  the  teachers  in  the  public  schools  of  Oregon  are 
women,  who,  although  having  no  direct  vote,  do  have 
and  exercise  wonderful  influence  along  lines  where  they 
are  interested. 

I  did  not  know  Ackerman  well  until  we  made  our  first 
trip  to  visit  the  State  Normal  School  at  Ashland.  We 
had  our  breakfast  in  a  "diner"  together  and  I  ordered 
a  fairly  good  meal — having  been  a  farmer  and  being 
accustomed  to  that  sort  of  thing  in  the  morning — includ- 


426  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

ing  a  good  steak,  eggs  and  their  customary  accessories. 
We  were  busily  engaged  in  talking  and  I  had  paid  no  at- 
tention to  his  order,  which  was  dehvered  first.  1  noticed 
then  that  he  had  duplicated  my  selection.  My  order  was 
for  some  reason  delayed,  and  in  the  meantime  Ackerman 
had  devoured  the  best  part  of  the  steak  and  all  the  eggs. 
My  portion,  when  it  came,  consisted  of  a  small  piece  of 
sickly  toast  and  a  dish  of  rice.  I  was  naturally  aston- 
ished and  told  the  waiter  that  he  had  taken  my  order 
wrong.  He  replied,  with  a  look  of  surprise,  that  he  had 
by  mistake  changed  the  two. 

I  immediately  glanced  at  Ackerman.  His  amused  look 
was  a  plain  admission  that  he  had  seen  the  possibility 
of  securing  a  good  breakfast  at  a  minimum  of  expense 
by  continuing  the  conversation  on  normal  schools  with 
enthusiasm,  for  the  Governor  was  at  that  time  obliged 
to  pay  all  his  expenses  out  of  his  own  pocket,  or  did, 
while  the  Superintendent,  while  allowed  his  traveling 
expenses,  was  obliged  to  render  an  account  even  to  details 
to  the  Secretary  of  State. 

From  that  time  I  knew  Ackerman  quite  well — well 
enough  to  be  always  on  the  watch  for  a  practical  joke, 
for  he  was  not  only  an  exceptionally  good  official,  under 
whose  management  the  school  system  of  Oregon  has 
become  one  of  the  best  in  the  United  States,  but  he  is 
a  born  wag. 

He  is  now  the  principal  of  the  reorganized  State 
Normal  School  at  Monmouth,  where  he  has  an  op- 
portunity to  contribute  still  further  toward  the  improve- 
ment of  our  educational  system. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

The  issues  which  characterized  the  campaign  of  1898 
were  not  particularly  exciting,  consisting  merely  of  those 
which  divided  the  Republican  from  the  Democratic  and 
the  Populist  parties.  The  Spanish  War  had  just  begun, 
and  that  fact  assisted  in  a  way  to  further  the  prospects 
of  the  "party  in  power,"  though  it  should  be  remembered 
that  all  parties  were  supporting  the  administration  in  its 
determination  to  "remember  the  Maine."  The  election 
passed  off  quietly  and  the  Republican  ticket  was  tri- 
umphant with  a  majority  of  ten  thousand.  Incidentally, 
I  may  be  pardoned  for  adding  that  my  majority  was 
represented  by  that  figure,  w'hich  was  the  largest  by 
almost  two  to  one  ever  given  any  candidate  for  Gov- 
ernor of  Oregon,  before  or  since.  This  was  attribu- 
table, of  course,  to  the  fact  that  the  party  had  united 
on  me  in  the  State  Convention,  there  being  no  opposi- 
tion— a  condition  not  since  existing  in  any  campaign. 
For  this  very  flattering  honor  bestowed  upon  me  by  the 
people,  I  here  desire  again  to  express  my  thanks,  and 
to  add  that,  while  I  have  been  defeated  for  a  nomination 
I  have  never  failed  to  receive  an  affirmative  vote  when 
appealing  directly  to  the  people  of  Oregon.  I  have  a 
right  to  feel  proud  of  this  fact  and  to  refer  to  it— - 
modestl}'.   I  trust — while  expressing  my  gratitude. 

In  the  nature  of  things  this  book  is  personal  and  in 
a  manner  reminiscent,  but  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  extol, 
criticise,  defend  or  otherwise  consider  the  merits  of  my 
administration  of  the  public  affairs  of  Oregon  during 
the  four  years  from  January,  1899,  to  January,  1903. 
To  do  so  w^ould  not  be  seemly  on  my  part.  I  leave  that 
to  the  future  historian,  to  wdiom  it  properly  belongs. 
There  was  no  exciting  feature  during  the  course  of  my 

427 


428  THFTY  YEARS  TX  OREGON 

adniinisLration ;  all  the  (lepartineiils  of  the  State  Ciovern- 
iiient  discharged  their  functions  without  other  friction 
than  was  the  result  of  counter  political  aspirations  and 
the  usual  trouble  engendered  by  disappointed  office- 
seekers.  This  led  to  my  defeat  for  renomination  in  1902. 
but.  since  I  have  no  apology  to  make  for  the  acts  which 
displeased  those  who  were  in  control  of  the  party  at 
that  time,  a  discussion  of  them  would  be  useless.  Where 
questions  come  up  for  an  ultimate  decision  and  the  Gov- 
ernor as  the  agent  of  last  resort  is  compelled  to  settle  the 
matter  one  way  or  the  other,  it  is  to  be  expected  that 
somebody  will  be  disappointed,  dissatisfied,  and  dis- 
gruntled. And  since  the  dissatisfied,  disappointed  and 
disgruntled  ones  outnumber  those  who  meet  with  suc- 
cess, "it  follows  as  night  the  day"  that  the  one  man 
who  under  the  law  is  required  to  decide  important  c^ues- 
tions  will  have  a  very  hard  task  to  discharge,  especially 
if  he  belongs  to  the  dominant  party  in  his  State.  And 
I  did !     Enough  said. 

In  the  summer  of  1899,  six  months  after  my  inaugura- 
tion, the  Spanish  War  was  brought  to  a  close  and  the 
Second  Regiment  of  Oregon,  which  had  shed  such  glory 
on  the  State  by  its  marvelous  intrepidity  and  uniform 
readiness  for  action  at  all  times,  was  returning  home. 
It  was  the  first  to  land  on  foreign  soil  in  that  conflict 
and  was  the  first  mustered  out  of  the  service. 

The  regiment  was  due  to  arrive  in  San  Francisco 
about  July  10  and  I  went  to  that  city,  accompanied  by 
my  full  staff,  to  welcome  them  home  in  the  name  of 
their  State.  The  people  of  Portland  had  made  very 
elaborate  arrangements  to  receive  them,  supposing  they 
would  travel  from  San  Francisco  to  Portland  by  water. 
A  large  local  fleet  was  to  ])roceed  down  the  Columbia 
and  escort  the  heroes  home  amid  the  plaudits  of  the 
people,  the  waving  of  banners  and  the  belching  forth  of 
friendly  cannon.  The  prcjgram  was  fully  arranged  and 
the  expense  of  it  all  had  not  been  considered  for  a 
moment.  I  proceeded  to  San  Francisco  to  extend  the 
glad  hand  and  to  bid  them  God-speed  as  they  left  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  429 

Golden  Gate  on  their  return  trip  after  a  rest  in  the  Bav 
City. 

Of  course  the  actual  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  two 
transports  bearing  the  regiment  could  not  be  ascertained, 
and  I  remained  in  San  Francisco  two  days  w^aiting  for 
tidings.  On  the  third  day,  in  company  with  Governor 
Gage  of  California,  we  sighted  the  incoming  boats  out- 
side the  bar  and  met  them  inside  the  Bay,  near  the 
Presidio.  As  w^e  stood  watching  the  vessels,  at  first  mere 
tiny  specks,  grow  larger  and  larger,  realizing  the  while 
that  their  passengers  were  all  Oregon  boys  who  had  more 
than  performed  their  duty  as  soldiers  battling  in  the 
defense  of  their  country  against  a  savage  and  super- 
stitious foe,  it  seemed  one  of  the  most  thrilling  sights 
of  my  life.  Almost  the  entire  population  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, it  seemed,  had  assembled  on  the  shores  of  the  Bay 
and  were  enthusiastically  shouting  their  appreciation  of 
American  valor. 

As  our  boat  finally  swung  alongside  the  two  transports, 
I  could  easily  recognize  the  familiar  features  of  Colonel 
Owen  Summers,  the  beloved  commanding  officer  of  the 
regiment,  who  shouted : 

"Hello,  there,  Governor!  We  are  awfully  glad  to  see 
you." 

I  returned  the  salutation,  recognizing  at  the  same  time 
several  of  the  boys  who  greeted  me  with  their  shouts. 
Under  the  circumstances  T  thought  it  my  duty  to  make 
a  short  address  of  welcome,  but  when  I  began  to  say  a 
few  words  there  w^as  a  general  yelling: 

"Muster  us  out  in  San  Francisco!  Muster  us  out  in 
San  Francisco !" 

I  waited  a  moment  for  the  interruption  to  subside, 
when  I  again  attempted  to  let  them  know  how  glad  the 
people  of  Oregon  were  to  know  of  their  return  and  how 
proud  they  were  that,  etc.,  etc.,  when  my  voice  was 
drowned  by  the  repeated  shouting  by  a  thousand  throats : 

"Muster  us  out  in  San  Francisco!" 

This  second  demonstration  convinced  me  that  I  did 
not  want  to  make  any  speech,  anyway,  and  there  was 


430  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

every  reason  for  belief  that  they  were  not  wanting  to 
hear  a  speech.  I  then  boarded  the  "Ohio"  and  began  shak- 
ing hands — also  to  get  some  valuable  information. 
Colonel  Summers  at  once  informed  me  that  before  leav- 
ing Manila  the  boys  had  heard  of  the  intention  of  the 
people  of  Portland  to  give  them  a  hearty  welcome  upon 
their  arrival,  and  that  they  at  once  rebelled  at  the  propo- 
sition. They  had  worked  hard,  had  endured  many  hard- 
ships, lived  on  such  food  as  was  to  be  had,  marched 
under  a  burning  sun  to  be  met  by  the  treacherous  Fili- 
pinos, and  they  were  not  looking  for  further  demonstra- 
tions of  any  kind,  especially  one  that  would  mean  another 
sea  voyage  after  being  on  land  for  two  weeks  at  San 
Francisco. 

Besides,  they  had  given  their  service  for  very  small 
remuneration,  and  if  formally  mustered  out  at  San 
Francisco  they  would  be  entitled  to  travel  pay  from  that 
point  home.  This  would  mean  a  goodly  sum  for  each 
one  of  them,  and,  they  said,  they  would  need  that  upon 
arriving  home  far  more  than  a  demonstration  which 
would  be  "all  show  and  no  money." 

I  had  not  talked  with  the  General  and  the  boys  ten 
minutes  until  I  could  see  that  Portland  reception  going 
a-glimmering.  The  boys  were  true  soldiers,  but  the 
proposition  to  force  them  to  go  home  by  way  of  the 
Columbia  River  did  not  look  good  to  them,  and  it  looked 
no  better  to  Colonel  Summers.  I  at  once  called  up  Port- 
land and  got  in  communication  with  H.  W.  Scott,  of  the 
Oregonian.  After  I  had  told  him  how  the  matter  stood, 
he  remarked  in  his  usual  sententious  manner:  "I  ex- 
pected as  much." 

The  next  day  I  telegraphed  the  situation  to  Secretary 
of  War  Root  and  asked  permission  to  muster  the  Second 
Oregon  Regiment  out  in  San  Francisco.  The  request 
was  granted,  and  peace  once  more  reigned  within  the 
ranks  of  the  famous  regiment. 

I  returned  home  and  two  weeks  later  met  the  regiment 
at  the  California  State  line,  where  each  one  of  the  boys 
wore  a  grin  as  wide  as  a  full-grown  hard-tack. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  431 

Three  months  later  I  was  invited  by  President  Mc- 
Kinley,  with  the  Governors  of  all  the  other  States,  to  be 
present  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the  new 
Federal  Building  at  Chicago.  I  had  been  trying  for 
some  time  to  secure  a  cannon  from  the  Philippines — one 
that  had  been  captured  there  by  the  American  troops,  if 
possible — out  of  which  to  manufacture  appropriate 
medals  to  be  presented  to  the  members  of  the  Second 
Oregon  Regiment,  as  a  souvenir  from  the  State  of 
Oregon.  I  had  not  succeeded  at  the  time  this  invita- 
tion came  from  President  McKinley,  and  since  the  Sec- 
retary of  War  was  to  be  in  Chicago  on  that  occasion,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  the  opportunity  would  be  presented 
there  to  explain  the  matter  to  him  personally  and  thus 
secure  his  assistance. 

Upon  arriving  at  Chicago  I  learned  that  Secretary 
Root  was  there,  but  the  papers  the  next  morning  an- 
nounced that  he  had  returned  to  Washington  on  a  night 
train  in  answer  to  a  telegram  demanding  his  immediate 
presence  at  the  national  capital.  Of  course  this  changed 
my  plans,  but  having  traveled  that  far  in  the  interest  of 
the  medals  I  decided  to  extend  the  trip  to  Washington. 
This  I  did.  Upon  presenting  the  matter  to  Secretary 
Root,  he  said : 

"I  thought  that  cannon  had  been  ordered  already.  I 
remember  your  request  and  that  it  had  my  sanction." 

After  I  had  explained  the  question  in  detail,  admitting 
that  there  was  a  measure  of  sentiment  in  wanting  the 
medals  made  out  of  a  cannon  brought  from  the  Philip- 
pines, he  said  he  would  write  at  once  to  the  authorities 
there  to  send  one  along  without  further  delay. 

"But,"  I  said,  "Mr.  Secretary,  two  months  have 
already  elapsed  since  this  matter  w^as  taken  up  and  so 
far  nothing  at  all  has  been  accomplished.  At  this  rate, 
the  Spanish  War  will  be  partly  forgotten  before  those 
medals  can  be  manufactured  and  distributed  among  the 
boys.  They  are  all  young  now,  to  be  sure,  but  these 
medals  should  be  given  them  before  they  become  grand- 
fathers." 


432  FIFTY  YFARS  IN  OREGON 

At  this  the  Secretary  smiled,  tliought  a  moment,  then 
said:  "Well.  I  guess  Uncle  Sam  can  stand  the  expense 
of  a  cablegram  in  the  interest  of  those  Oregon  boys." 
And.  reaching  for  a  pen,  he  wrote  an  order  for  the  im- 
mediate shi])ment  of  a  cannon  to  Portland,  showed  it  to 
me,  and  called  a  messenger  to  have  it  sent  at  once. 

Within  a  month  the  cannon  arrived  in  P(jrtland. 
Shortly  afterwards  the  medals  were  made  and  distributed 
among  the  survivors  of  the   Second   Oregon. 

While  in  San  Francisco  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
Manila  transports,  I  was  the  guest  of  General  Shafter, 
who  had  seen  active  service  in  Cuba  and  was  at  that 
time  in  command  of  military  affairs  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. He  was  a  most  affable  man,  for  c:)ne  accustomed 
for  so  many  years  to  military  discipline,  and  I  enjoyed 
his  company  very  much.  He  was  a  man  of  enormous 
proportions,  physically,  w^eighing  fully  three  hundred 
pounds.  On  the  day  of  the  public  reception  of  the 
Second  Oregon  by  San  Francisco,  he  appeared  on  horse- 
back, riding  with  all  the  dignity  expected  of  one  of  his 
position.  How  he  mounted  his  steed  I  was  not  able  to 
discover.  He  had  a  ranch  not  many  miles  from  San 
Francisco  and  one  day  visited  it.  returning  late  in  the 
afternoon  heated  in  body  and  mind.  As  soon  as  he  had 
regained  his  composure  enough  to  engage  in  conversa- 
tion he  said : 

"I  had  a  deuce  of  a  time  this  afternoon.  I  am  en- 
deavoring to  drain  some  land  down  there  and  am  having 

more  trouble  trying  to  manage  twenty  d d  Chinamen 

than  I  had  in  Cuba  directing  twenty  thousand  soldiers." 
And  he  was  mad,  indeed. 


CHAPTER  LVII 

On  May  8.  1901,  the  battleship  Ohio  was  launched 
at  San  Francisco  and  President  McKinley  was  present 
to  participate  in  the  attendant  ceremonies.  He  had  ar- 
ranged an  extensive  itinerary  which  included  all  the 
Pacific  Coast  States,  but  wdiile  in  San  Francisco,  the 
severe  illness  of  his  wife,  by  whom  he  w-as  accompanied, 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  cancel  all  his  dates  north  of 
that  city,  much  to  the  disappointment  and  regret  of  our 
people. 

I  went  to  San  Francisco  to  attend  the  ceremonies  of 
the  launching  and  to  extend  an  official  invitation  to  the 
President  to  visit  Oregon,  but  he  was  compelled  to  return 
to  Washington  and  was  assassinated  at  Buffalo  a  few 
months  later.  He  was  never  in  Oregon,  though  this 
State  was  always  especially  loyal  to  him. 

Governor  Nash,  of  Ohio,  was  present  at  the  launching 
of  the  ship  named  after  his  State  and  I  became  well 
acquainted  with  him.  We  made  several  side  trips 
together  and  I  found  him  a  very  genial  companion  and 
most  anxious  to  know  more  about  this  coast.  On  one 
of  these  little  journeys  he  became  inoculated  wnth  poison 
oak,  or  ivy.  and  was  sorely  afflicted  for  the  remainder  of 
his  stay  in  San  Francisco,  being  obliged  to  remain  away 
from  the  public  reception  given  the  Ohio  visitors  by  the 
people  of  that  city.  On  his  way  home  he  w^as  compelled 
to  remain  over  at  Salt  Lake  for  a  day  and  upon  his 
arrival  at  his  home  in  Columbus  was  unable  to  enter  a 
carnage  without  assistance.  He  never  regained  his 
health  and  died  the  next  year,  many  thought  from  the 
lingering  effect  of  his  exposure  to  the  poison  oak  in  San 
Francisco. 

Governor  Nash  w'as  renominated  in  the  summer  fol- 
lowing, though  his  physical  condition  would  have  pre- 

433 


434  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

eluded  such  a  thing  had  it  not  been  for  the  general  esteem 
in  which  he  was  held  by  the  people  of  Ohio.  When  the 
campaign  opened  I  received  an  invitation  from  the  Re- 
publican State  Committee  of  Ohio  to  take  a  part  in  the 
speech-making.  Though  I  had  declined  a  similar  one 
the  year  before,  I  had  a  very  friendly  feeling  for  Gov- 
ernor Nash,  and  as  the  invitation  from  Chairman  Dick 
was  followed  a  few  days  later  by  a  letter  from  the  Gov- 
ernor, saying  that  he  hoped  I  would  come,  I  accepted. 
Soon  after  this,  however,  President  McKinley  was  shot 
at  Buffalo  and  the  formal  opening  of  the  campaign,  by 
the  mutual  consent  of  both  political  parties,  was  post- 
poned until  time  should  tell  the  result  of  his  wound. 

Owing  to  the  subsequent  death  of  the  President  the 
Ohio  campaign  was  limited  to  two  weeks.  My  first  date 
was  at  the  little  city  of  Waverly,  about  twenty  miles 
north  of  the  Ohio  River,  and  the  time  was  equally  divided 
between  Senator  Mark  Hanna  and  myself.  I  had  never 
seen  that  distinguished  gentleman  until  we  met  on  the 
platform  a  few  minutes  before  the  speaking  began,  and 
the  impression  he  gave  me  was  decidedly  a  favorable  one. 
He  was  as  plain  in  his  manner  as  a  farmer.  As  we  rode 
in  a  carriage  through  the  streets,  after  the  meeting,  it 
was  scarcely  possible  to  drive  the  team  through  the 
crowds,  so  great  was  the  jam  of  people  who  walked 
beside  the  vehicle  and  insisted  on  grasping  the  hand  of 
the  Senator.  There  were  continual  shouts  for  "Uncle 
Mark,"  and  "Hurrah  for  Uncle  Mark!"  etc.  He  was 
a  candidate  for  re-election,  had  been  endorsed  by  the 
Republican  State  Convention  and  was  stumping  the 
State  advocating  the  election  of  a  Legislature  that  would 
be  favorable  to  him.  There  was  no  doubt  of  his  re- 
election, by  the  popular  vote,  at  least, — none  to  those  who 
saw  the  demonstrations  of  that  day. 

Senator  Hanna  invited  my  wife  and  me  to  spend  the 
following  Sunday  at  his  home  in  Cleveland,  which  we 
would  gladly  have  done,  but  that  we  desired  to  visit  the 
Buffalo  Exposition  and  it  was  possible  to  do  so  only  on 
that  day.     When  I  told  the  Senator  I  was  the  cousin  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  435 

Homer  Davenport,  who  cartooned  him  so  unmercifully 
in  the  campaign  of  1896.  he  at  once  began  making  in- 
quiries about  him  and  where  he  got  his  artistic  ability. 
He  said  he  had  met  Davenport  several  times  and  really 
liked  "the  fellow,"  but  added  that  he  didn't  approve  of 
his  cartoon  treatment  of  himself.  I  told  him  I  never  yet 
had  found  a  man  who  could  really  enjoy  a  good  cartoon 
of  himself,  though  everybody  else  might  regard  it  as 
a  work  of  art.  He  said  that  he  never  cared  "a  peg"  for 
Davenport's  cartoons,  but  that  his  wife  hated  that  artist 
"worse  than  snakes."  He  remarked  that  he  had  in- 
structed his  secretary  to  save  all  the  cartoons  of  himself 
that  had  appeared  in  the  papers,  but  that  they  were  to  be 
kept  from  his  wife,  if  possible. 

The  last  week  of  the  Ohio  campaign  I  traveled  in  com- 
pany with  Governor  Nash,  except  while  I  was  at  Marys- 
ville,  where  my  time  was  divided  with  Warren  G. 
Harding,  since  elected  Lieutenant  Governor  and  who 
was  last  year  defeated  for  Governor  by  Harmon. 

So  far  as  I  could  see  there  was  no  difference  between 
campaigning  in  Ohio  and  Oregon  or  Washington  or 
Idaho.  My  previous  experience  served  to  illustrate  very 
forcibly  the  fact  that  ours  is  a  great  country  and,  what 
is  better,  that  we  are  essentially  one  great  people.  An 
American  citizen  of  Ohio  has  all  the  characteristics  of 
the  American  citizen  of  Oregon,  Maine  or  Florida.  This 
fact  is  more  keenly  realized  when,  in  campaigning  in 
States  widely  separated  geographically,  one  discovers  the 
sameness  of  the  issues  involved. 

My  wife  and  I  spent  Monday  of  the  last  week  of 
the  campaign  in  Cleveland  as  the  guests  of  Myron  T. 
Herrick,  afterward  Governor  of  Ohio,  and  in  the  even- 
ing visited  the  city  of  Ravenna,  some  ninety  miles  south 
of  Cleveland,  where  Governor  Nash  and  I  addressed  a 
meeting  whose  proportions  fully  sustained  Ohio's  reputa- 
tion for  not  "doing  politics"  by  halves.  Upon  arriving 
at  Ravenna,  a  committee  met  me  at  the  train.  Governor 
Nash  having  gone  there  early  in  the  day  to  look  after  his 
local  fences.     After  reaching  the  hotel,  the  chairman  said 


436  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

he  wanted  to  put  me  on  my  guard  as  to  a  characteristic 
of  the  people  of  his  town. 

"They  always  pay  the  best  of  attention  to  a  public 
speaker  and  appreciate  his  coming.  You  will  have  a 
crowded  house ;  but  they  never  give  any  demonstration 
of  approval,  such  as  clapping  of  hands,  stamping  of 
feet.  etc.  We  account  for  it  to  outsiders  by  claiming 
that  our  people  are  highly  intellectual,"  said  he.  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye ;  "but  those  not  used  to  their  ways 
are  likely  to  misconstrue  their  attitude."  He  said  that 
when  Senator  Allison  of  Iowa  was  there  the  year  before, 
he  was  greatly  incensed  at  what  he  termed  the  coldness 
of  the  Ravenna  people  and  declared  he  would  never  hold 
a  meeting  there  again. 

When  I  returned  to  Columbia  after  the  campaign  had 
closed,  Chairman  Dick,  in  talking  over  the  situation, 
inquired  what  kind  of  a  meeting  I  had  had  at  Ravenna. 
After  I  told  him  it  was  a  "stem-winder"  and  a  great 
success  in  every  way,  he  said  he  had  been  a  little  afraid 
of  it.  since  the  people  there  were  noted  for  their  lack  of 
enthusiasm  in  public  meetings.  Chairman  Dick  was  then 
a  member  of  the  lower  House  of  Congress  and  Ravenna 
was  in  his  district.  While  on  this  subject  he  told  me  this 
story : 

Fifty  years  before,  when  Tom  Corwin  was  in  his  prime 
as  a  famous  stump-speaker  and  orator — and  wit — he  at- 
tended a  meeting  at  Ravenna.  After  returning  to  his 
home  in  Cincinnati,  w^hile  relating  some  of  his  campaign 
e.xperience,  in  the  State,  he  said  :  "Ravenna,  though,  is 
the  d st  place  yet.  Why.  up  there  they  are  so  long- 
faced  that  they  open  their  political  meetings  with  prayer 
and  close  by  singing  the  Doxology.  I  spoke  there  last 
week  to  a  crowded  house  and  the  prospects  for  a  suc- 
cessful meeting  could  not  have  been  better.  But  I  had 
spoken  for  fully  half  an  hour  without  bringing  out  any 
applause  or  smile  whatever.  This  was  unusual,  so  I 
thought  I  would  wake  them  up  by  telling  a  story.  I 
told  one  of  the  best  I  knew,  and  told  it  as  well  as  I 
could ;  it  fell  perfectly  flat.   There  was  not  a  hand-clap  nor 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  437 

a  smile.  I  went  on  for  another  twenty  minutes  without 
any  response  from  the  audience  other  than  the  very  best 
of  attention.  At  this  point  I  thought  I  would  try  another 
story  on  them.  So  I  selected  one  of  my  best  and  did 
my  utmost  to  tell  it  well;  but  it  was  as  great  a  failure 
as  the  first. 

"This  made  me  mad,  and  I  really  cut  my  speech  short 
on  account  of  the  dullness  of  the  people — or  their 
stupidity,  or  incapacity,  or  something — but  I  decided  to 
give  them  just  one  more  story  and  see  what  it  would  do. 
Now,  of  course.  I  know  I  have  some  reputation  as  a 
story-teller,  and  I  felt  a  degree  of  personal  pride  in 
making  an  effort  to  rouse  that  audience.  I  closed  with 
a  story  that  would  cause  the  dead  to  rise  up  and  laugh, 
and  used  whatever  art  I  possessed  in  relating  it  well,  but, 
do  you  know,  there  was  not  the  slightest  indication  in  any 
f|uarter  of  mirth — no  applause  nor  demonstration  of  any 
kind.     Not  even  a  smile. 

"So  the  meeting  was  adjourned.  Afterwards  several 
of  the  leading  men  of  the  city  gathered  around  me  and 
one  of  them,  speaking  for  the  others,  it  seemed,  said : 

"  'Corwin.  that  was  one  of  the  best  speeches  I  ever 
heard.  It  was  logical,  eloquent,  unanswerable  and  right 
to  the  point — just  what  we  needed  here.  And  do  you 
know,  Corwin,  vour  stories— whv,  when  you  told  that 
last  one,  /  came  mighty  near  laughing  right  out  loud  ^' " 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

Before  leaving  for  Ohio  I  had  decided  to  employ  a 
day  or  two  after  the  campaign  was  over  in  visiting  my 
father's  birthplace,  which  I  knew  was  somewhere  near 
London,  in  Madison  County.  He  was  born  there  in  1828 
and  was  twelve  years  old  when  his  father  moved  to 
Illinois.  Thousands  of  times  I  had  listened  with  great 
interest  as  he  related  his  boyhood  experiences,  and  had 
always  entertained  a  longing  to  see  the  old  farm.  This, 
it  appeared,  was  my  opportunity  and  I  decided  to  make 
the  most  of  it. 

I  was  most  agreeably  surprised,  therefore,  upon  re- 
porting to  Republican  headquarters  soon  after  arriving 
at  Columbus,  to  discover  that  the  third  place  assigned 
me  in  the  campaign  Avas  London,  and  an  afternoon  meet- 
ing at  that.  The  meeting  was  held  in  an  old  skating 
rink,  of  ample  dimensions,  which  was  filled  to  its  utmost 
capacity.  Several  persons  explained  to  me,  with  pardon- 
able pride,  that  McKinley  had  often  during  the  last 
twenty  years  spoken  in  that  same  building. 

I  opened  my  speech  by  saying  that,  although  a  native 
Oregonian,  I  felt  at  home  in  Madison  County,  Ohio,  for 
the  reason  that  my  father  was  born  there  seventy-three 
years  before.  This  announcement  put  me  on  good  terms 
with  the  people,  and  I  added  that  I  v^ould  deem  it  a 
personal  favor  if.  at  the  close  of  the  speech,  those  in 
the  audience  who  could  tell  me  where  the  old  Geer  farm 
was  located  would  remain  long  enough  to  give  me  that 
information. 

When  the  meeting  adjourned  at  least  a  dozen  people, 
both  men  and  women,  began  to  make  their  way  through 
the  crowd  toward  the  platform.  Each  one  of  them 
knew  exactly  where  it  w^as,  though  more  than  sixty  years 

438 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  439 

had  elapsed  since  my  grandfather  hved  there.  Finally, 
one  man  said  he  had  seen  the  present  owner  in  town  that 
day.  After  a  little  search  he  was  found  and  the  county 
committee  at  once  placed  a  carriage  at  my  disposal  for 
the  following  afternoon.  My  next  appointment,  luckily, 
was  for  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  thus  giving  us 
ample  time  for  this  most  pleasant  visit. 

There  have  been  few  happier  days  in  my  life  than  the 
one  on  which  I  visited  the  birthplace  of  my  father.  It 
was  a  most  delightful  October  day  and  the  autumn 
foliage  of  the  Ohio  forests  was  at  its  loveliest.  I 
imagined  I  could  see  my  father,  with  his  brothers  and 
sisters,  as  they  were  living  in  that  by-gone  time,  knowing 
nothing  then  of  the  great  land  on  the  far-away  Pacific 
Coast  to  which  they  were  destined  to  go  later  on  and 
in  the  development  of  which  they  were  to  do  their  part 
as  brave  pioneers.  Ohio  is  a  beautiful  State  in  the 
autumn — if  you  don't  stay  there  too  late — and  the  woods 
at  that  time  of  the  year  are  delightfully  attractive.  We 
traveled  along  one  country  lane  where  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  plank  fences  on  either  side  of  the  road  were  con- 
structed of  walnut  lumber.  Our  driver  explained  that  it 
had  been  built  thirty  years  before,  but  that  at  that  time  a 
walnut  tree  was  worth  a  small  fortune ;  that  the  year 
before  a  representative  of  an  Eastern  manufacturing 
concern  had  been  through  that  part  of  the  country  buying 
every  old  walnut  stump  he  could  find  in  the  woods  or 
pastures,  some  of  them  bringing  as  much  as  forty  dollars. 
Their  roots,  he  said,  would  be  followed  until  they  were 
no  more  than  two  inches  in  diameter. 

When  my  father  was  a  boy  in  Ohio,  every  member  of 
the  family  who  was  large  enough  had  to  work  in  the 
walnut  timber,  burning  logs  and  digging  stumps,  in  order 
that  the  land  might  be  cleared  for  agricultural  purposes. 
Conservation  of  natural  resources  was  not  then  a  burn- 
ing question,  though  the  destruction  of  the  walnut  timber 
was! 

The  house  built  by  my  grandfather  in  1836  was  still 


440  FIFTY  YEARS  I\  OREGON 

standing  when  the  present  cnvner  purchased  the  farm 
some  twenty  years  before,  but  was  burned  the  next  year. 
The  one  stancHng  in  1901  had  been  built  immediately 
back  of  the  one  destroyed  and  the  foundation  of  the 
latter,  consisting  of  large,  flat  stones  at  each  of  the  four 
corners,  had  never  been  disturbed.  They  were  just  even 
with  the  top  of  the  ground  and  were  partly  covered  with 
blue  grass.  I  could  almost  imagine  they  were  speaking 
to  me,  as  I  saw.  in  my  fancy,  my  grandfather  or  some 
of  the  "boys,"  placing  them  there  during  the  summer 
that  Martin  Van  Buren  was  elected  President  of  the 
United  States. 

But  the  identical  log  barn  my  grandfather  built  was 
still  there  and  doing  daily  service.  As  we  dr<)\e  past  it 
there  was  an  enormous  Poland  China  sow  stretched  out 
in  the  shade  of  a  shed,  vigorously  scratching  fleas,  the 
outcome  of  the  contest  being  in  apparent  douljt.  And  the 
barn  looked  every  day  of  its  age. 

I  went  to  the  spring  under  the  hill,  fifty  yards  from 
the  house,  and  drank  fruin  it.  Overshadowing  it  stood 
a  huge  hickory  tree  which  had  sheltered  my  father  in  his 
boyhood  years.  It  is  well  to  remark,  in  passing,  that 
nearly  every  farmhouse  I  ha\-e  seen  in  the  }\lississippi 
Valley  States  is  built  at  least  fifty  yards  away,  often 
twice  as  far.  from  the  spring  which  supi)lies  the  family 
with  water — and  the  water  is  always  to  Ije  carried  up 
hill !  The  law  of  gravitation  seems  ne\er  to  have  been 
discovered  by  the  benighted  people  in  those  sections  of 
our  country. 

The  daughter  of  a  man  named  Willard.  who  owned 
the  farm  joining  that  of  my  grandfather  in  the  days  he 
lived  in  Ohio,  became  the  wife  of  Ralph  C.  Geer,  who  for 
fifty  years  was  a  well-known  farmer  of  the  Waldo  Hills. 
Willard's  son  owned  the  place  when  I  was  there,  a  man 
then  seventy-five  years  of  age.  He  was  my  father's 
playmate,  of  whom  I  had  heard  him  speak  thousands  of 
times.  I  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  the  Willard  farm  and 
found  the  old  man  out  in  a  woods  pasture  trimming  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  441 

limbs  from  the  young  hickory  trees,  for  the  purpose,  he 
said,  of  forcing  them  to  grow  straight  enough  to  be  sold 
later  for  wagon  spokes.  His  hair  and  beard  were  snow- 
white  and  he  had  never  been  out  of  the  State  of  Ohio 
more  than  a  month,  all  told,  in  his  life. 

When  I  returned  home  I  wrote  an  account  of  my 
Ohio  trip  to  my  father's  brother,  Carey,  in  California. 
He  was  then  eighty  years  of  age  and  had  not  seen  Ohio, 
or  any  other  place  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  since  he 
came  to  Oregon  ''on  his  own  hook"  in  1845.  I  thought 
by  writing  him  of  the  scenes  of  his  early  boyhood  I 
would  arouse  in  him  a  feeling  of  homesickness,  a  longing 
to  see  them  himself;  but  in  answer  to  my  question 
whether  he  ever  entertained  a  desire  to  visit  once  more 
the  old  place,  he  replied  : 

"I  have  never  wanted  to  see  Ohio  since  I  left  there 
in  1840.  nor  do  I  desire  to  see  any  other  part  of  the 
United  States  except  the  Pacific  Coast.  Why.  I  wouldn't 
give  an  acre  of  ground  in  Oregon  or  California  for  all 
of  any  one  State  in  the  Mississippi  Valley.  There's  Jim 
Willard  you  wrote  about.  We  were  little  boys  together, 
and  though  he  is  now  seventy-five  years  old  he  has  never 
been  out  of  sight  of  the  smoke  of  his  father's  chimney. 
Bah !" 

Our  driver  returned  to  London  by  way  of  the  cele- 
brated Darby  Plains,  one  of  the  richest  and  most  beau- 
tiful sections  of  Ohio.  We  had  not  traveled  far  with 
him.  however,  before  we  discovered  he  carried  a  bottle 
of  spirits  of  generous  proportions  which  he  interviewed 
with  surprising  frequency.  After  a  while  he  became  so 
jolly  that  he  insisted  that  I  share  his  potations,  and  my 
refusal  served  only  to  increase  his  desire  to  empty  the 
bottle.  Just  before  reaching  London  we  had  to  drive 
down  a  long  incline,  at  the  bottom  of  which  the  road 
narrowed  to  the  width  of  a  culvert.  We  were  going  at 
a  fearful  rate,  the  horses  plunging  in  a  fast  run,  wnth 
their  heads  pointed  in  a  direction  which,  if  kept,  would 
miss  the  bridge  by  at  least  ten  feet.     Before  reaching  it, 


442  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

I  rose  from  the  back  seat,  snatched  the  lines  from  his 
hands,  and  without  doubt  thus  prevented  the  occurrence 
of  a  fearful  accident.  He  accepted  my  interference  as 
a  joke,  remarking  that  "  's  no  danger — horses  zhawl 
right." 

After  safely  crossing  the  culvert  w^e  drove  along  a 
small  creek  bottom  which  had  been  in  corn  that  summer, 
and  the  stalks,  still  standing,  showed  that  the  yield  had 
been  very  light.  The  ground  was  weedy  and  parched 
and  showed  the  effects  of  an  overflow  some  time  during 
the  growing  season.  I  remarked  to  the  driver,  partly 
in  order  to  take  his  mind  from  the  little  experience  we 
had  had : 

"Those  spindling  corn-stalks  seem  to  show  that  the  crop 
there  this  year  was  very  light." 

"Yes,"  he  returned,  as  he  felt  for  his  bottle,  "we  had 
a  great  fluency  of  rain  here  last  spring!" 

\\'e  left  Ohio  on  our  return  trip  to  Oregon  on  Novem- 
ber 6,  and  by  that  time  the  trees  were  swept  perfectly 
bare  of  their  leaves  and  the  storms  had  begun.  There 
had  already  been  quite  a  snow-storm  in  Wisconsin  and 
in  Ohio  the  rains  were  freely  interspersed  with  spitting 
snow.  It  was  very  disagreeable  and  we  were  glad  to 
turn  our  faces  once  more  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  As  we 
passed  across  Wisconsin  there  were  large  patches  of 
snow  still  on  the  ground  here  and  there  and  I  remarked 
to  my  wife,  as  we  were  looking  at  the  dreary  scene: 
"Isn't  it  strange  that  people  will  live  in  this  climate 
when  there  is  room  for  millions  of  people  on  the  Pacific 
Coast,  where  the  climate  is  always  temperate,  and  where 
even  now  the  trees  are  bearing  their  leaves?" 

As  we  were  traveling  through  Minnesota  the  outlook 
was  still  more  cheerless,  and  I  frequently  remarked  how 
singular  it  was  that  people  would  settle  in  such  a  country, 
and  remain  there,  when  they  had  surely  heard  of  tlie 
magnificent  climate  of  the  Coast. 


In  Dakota  it  was  worse,  if  possible.    Passing  throu 


rh 


a  blizzard,  we  saw  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep,  here  and 
there,  huddled  together  for  mutual  protection.    We  later 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  443 

crossed  Montana  and  the  outlook  was  still  more  dis- 
couraging. It  was  colder  and  the  snow  was  flying  on 
a  level  at  a  speed  of  eighty  miles  an  hour — at  least,  so  it 
seemed. 

On  the  same  car  with  us  was  a  man  whose  home  was 
in  Helena,  Montana.  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing, 
our  train  was  speeding  along  through  a  most  terrific 
wand-storm,  interspersed  with  a  "fluency"  of  snow,  and 
I  was  saying  to  my  wife: 

"J'-ist  take  note  of  that,  will  you?  Isn't  it  awful? 
And  right  now  in  the  Willamette  valley  all  the  trees 
still  have  their  foliage  and  people  are  picking  apples. 
No  doubt  there  are  late  raspberries  to  be  had,  here  and 
there,  and  every  thing  is  lovely.  I  can't  understand  why 
people  will  live  in  such  a  country  as  this  when,  by  making 
a  trip  of  only  forty-eight  hours,  they  can  leave  it  all 
behind  them.  Most  of  them  have  surely  heard  of 
Oregon  and " 

Just  then  a  brakesman  entered  the  car  and  shouted: 

"Helena!" 

And,  sure  enough,  we  could  see  the  dome  of  the  State 
Capitol  in  the  distance.  I  was  resuming  my  commentary 
on  the  mental  condition  of  people  w^ho,  having  heard  of 
Oregon,  would  yet  remain  in  such  a  God-forsaken  sec- 
tion, when  somebody  touched  me  on  the  shoulder. 
Looking  up,  I  saw  it  was  my  Montana  friend,  who  said, 
as  he  stooped  to  look  out  of  our  window  while  he  was 
fastening  his  overcoat  collar,  which  reached  a  foot  above 
the  top  of  his  head : 

"Well,  sir.  it  does  a  fellow  good  to  get  back  to  God's 
country  again." 

He  had  been  in  New  York  for  two  weeks ! 

This  circumstance  served  to  open  my  eyes  somewhat 
to  the  fact  that  the  progress  of  any  country  or  section 
depends  altogether  upon  the  loyalty  of  its  citizens  to  its 
interests.  There  are  no  people  anywhere  more  firmly 
attached  to  their  State  than  the  people  of  Montana,  and 
few  States  have  made  greater  strides  in  material  develop- 
ment during  the  last  generation. 


444  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

After  this  remark  by  my  Montana  acquaintance  I  still 
marveled  at  his  "make-up,"  provided  he  had  ever  heard 
of  Oregon's  matchless  climate,  but  had  a  profound  ad- 
miration for  the  fealty  he  exhibited  toward  the  land  of 
his  adoption. 


CHAPTER  LIX 

In  the  last  chapter  reference  was  made  to  Homer 
Davenport's  share  in  making  Mark  Hanna  famous  in  the 
campaign  of  1896,  and  this  suggests  that,  as  he  is  an 
Oregon  product,  he  deserves  a  word  of  special  mention 
in  these  pages.  His  mother  was  my  first  cousin  and  I 
have  known  him  well  since  his  birth.  He  is  the  son  of 
T.  W.  Davenport,  one  of  Oregon's  best  known  pioneers 
and  public  men,  who  died  this  summer  at  the  age  of 
eighty-seven  years. 

To  those  who  have  known  Homer  since  his  childhood, 
it  will  not  seem  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  few  men  in 
this  or  any  other  day  are  justly  entitled  to  more  credit 
for  the  fame  they  have  won  than  he.  Until  he  was  past 
twenty-one  years  of  age  he  gave  little  promise,  although 
he  never  had  any  bad  habits,  unless  the  indisposition  to 
apply  himself  to  anything  which  might  prove  of  ultimate 
benefit  to  himself  might  be  so  termed.  He  had  no  educa- 
tional advantages  beyond  those  furnished  in  the  common 
schools,  and  his  most  intimate  acquaintances  cannot  recall 
any  great  application  on  his  part  even  there.  He  was 
not  given  to  applying  himself  steadily  to  any  one  thing. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  a  liking  for  sketching,  wearing  out 
every  bit  of  chalk  he  could  get  hold  of  on  old  board 
fences,  drawing  figures  of  horses  and  chickens;  but  this 
was  held  to  be  a  sad  and  distressing  evidence  of  general 
worthlessness — to  be  discouraged,  if  possible. 

When  the  old  "narrow  gauge"  railroad  was  built 
through  Silverton  Homer's  general  shiftlessness  and 
good  nature  drew  him  to  the  engineers  and  firemen,  who, 
since  much  of  their  time  was  unoccupied,  invited  him  to 
make  the  trip  to  the  terminus,  fifty  miles  farther  south, 
as  a  diversion  for  themselves.  In  those  days  there  was 
a  train  on  that  road  each  way  every  other  day,  and  con- 

445 


446  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

sequently  there  was  ample  time  to  indulge  in  sports  of 
different  kinds.  It  was  about  eighty  miles  from  Port- 
land to  the  terminus  and  it  required  all  day  to  make  the 
trip — one  way.  At  that  time  the  Chinese  pheasants, 
which  had  been  imported  into  Oregon  some  time 
previous,  were  becoming  so  plentiful  that  the  ban  against 
shooting  them  had  been  removed.  It  was  the  custom  for 
the  train  to  stop  a  dozen  times  a  day,  when  a  flock  of 
pheasants  was  sighted,  to  permit  the  crew  to  make  the 
rounds  of  the  adjoining  field  with  their  guns,  which  they 
always  carried  for  this  purpose.  They  usually  returned 
with  a  fine  lot  of  birds.  They  did  their  own  cooking  at 
Ray's  Landing — the  terminus  on  the  Willamette  River 
where  the  men  lived  in  a  "bunk  house,"  similar  to  a 
logging  camp — and  these  contributions  to  the  larder  were 
always  welcome. 

This  sort  of  life  appealed  strongly  to  Homer  Daven- 
port. He  was  a  good  shot,  and  the  railroad  men  for 
that  reason  the  more  appreciated  his  company.  Ordi- 
narily, he  would  make  his  "keep"  and  some  to  spare. 

Then,  too,  Homer  was  quite  crazy  about  dogs.  I 
may  say  the  condition  was  mutual.  A  dog  would  make 
friends  with  him  on  sight,  and  the  more  friendless  the 
dog.  the  more  friendly  it  would  be  with  him — especially 
if  it  was  frightfully  homely  and  bereft  of  any  redeeming 
quality  that  would  appeal  to  anybody  else. 

Not  long  since  an  ex-railroad  man  told  me  that  one 
day  he  was  running  the  engine  on  that  road,  with  Homer 
as  a  helper,  when  they  saw  a  dog  standing  in  a  field  by 
the  track,  apparently  without  an  owner.  Homer  at  once 
begged  the  engineer  to  stop,  as  he  wanted  to  investigate 
the  situation  and  to  get  the  dog,  if  possible,  promising 
to  meet  the  train  at  that  point  the  next  day.  At  the 
speed  the  train  was  running  it  was  but  a  question  of 
walking  back  fifty  3^ards.  So  a  stop  w-as  made  and  the 
engineer  made  the  remainder  of  the  run  alone.  But 
although  he  looked  for  Homer  next  day  all  along  that 
stretch  of  track  for  ten  miles  he  didn't  see  him — nor  did 
he  afterward  see  him  for  more  than  three  weeks,  when 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  447 

he  came  to  the  Silverton  station  one  day,  the  dog  by  his 
side,  to  inquire  how  the  engineer  was  getting  along, 
anyway ! 

He  himself  has  informed  the  public  how  he  finally 
went  to  San  Francisco  and  secured  employment  on  one 
of  Hearst's  papers,  after  drifting  about  some  time,  and 
how,  at  the  opening  of  the  McKinley  campaign  in  1896, 
he  was  transferred  to  New  Y^ork,  where  his  merciless 
cartoons  of  Mark  Hanna  made  him  famous. 

At  the  time  Homer  first  went  to  San  Francisco  his 
father  was  troubled  with  a  weak  eye,  on  account  of  which 
he  had  for  several  years  worn  a  leather  "patch"  over 
it.  He  had  been  so  adorned  when  serving  in  the  State 
Senate  and,  thus  disfigured,  was  familiarly  known  to  his 
acquaintances  over  the  State.  Within  two  weeks  after 
Homer's  tearful  departure  from  Silverton  a  letter  was 
received  at  the  post-office  there  with  no  writing  on 
the  envelope  but  the  address,  "Silverton,  Oregon."  Just 
above  the  address,  however,  was  a  life-like  picture  of 
T.  W.  Davenport,  arrayed  in  his  slouch  hat,  long 
whiskers,  and  a  patch  over  one  eye — the  latter  slightly 
enlarged. 

It  was  Homer's  first  popular  cartoon,  and  after  his 
father  had  read  the  letter  the  envelope  was  placed  in  the 
front  window  of  the  post-office  where  it  was  an  attrac- 
tion for  the  next  ten  days.  The  idea  was  illustrative  of 
Homer's  native  vvnt  and  was  one  of  the  first  indications 
of  his  future  career  as  a  successful  cartoonist.  The  Sil- 
verton boys  were  all  proud  of  that  envelope  and  Frank 
Simeral,  Matt  Brown,  Trent  Hibbard,  Milt.  Fitzgerald 
and  Tom,  Blackerby,  as  well  as  the  "belle  of  Silverton," 
spent  much  of  their  time  showing  it  to  those  who  chanced 
to  come  into  town  from  the  country. 

Within  two  weeks  after  the  election  in  1898,  which 
was  in  June,  I  received  a  letter  of  congratulation  from 
Homer.  On  the  last  page  was  a  very  clever  cartoon — an 
Oliver  Chilled  plow,  standing  at  rest  in  the  field,  and  a 
placard  hanging  on  the  handle  bearing  the  words,  "To 
Let."    It  was  very  suggestive  and  was  highly  appreciated 


448  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

by  me.     It  has  been  preserved  to  this  day  and  will  be 
found  reproduced  on  one  of  the  pages  of  this  book. 

By  his  native  wit,  agreeable  presence,  cultivated 
talent  and  association  with  the  great  men  of  the  country, 
Homer  Davenport  has  made  a  world-wide  reputation  of 
which  the  friends  of  his  boyhood  days,  still  living  in  and 
around  Silverton  and  the  beautiful  Waldo  Hills,  are 
justly  proud.  This  short  chapter  is  dedicated  to  him 
in  memory  of  the  early  days  when  he  was  a  barefoot  boy 
begging  doughnuts  from  his  Grandmother  Geer. 


>,Jj'>)J5>' 


-    S 


r;   ^ 


CHAPTER  LX 

Within  a  short  time  after  the  adjournment  of  the 
Legislature  in  February,  1899,  a  party  consisting  of 
State  Senator  A.  W.  Reed,  of  Douglas  County,  Hol- 
lister  G.  McGuire,  State  Fish  Commissioner,  Adju- 
tant General  B.  B.  Tuttle  and  myself,  went  to  Roseburg 
for  the  purpose  of  locating  a  salmon  hatchery  at  some 
point  on  the  Umpqua  River  a  few  miles  below  that  city, 
though  General  Tuttle  and  I  intended  to  pay  an  official 
visit  to  the  Soldier's  Home,  also. 

Our  presence  in  Roseburg  was  the  occasion  of  a  semi- 
public  reception  at  our  hotel  during  the  evening  which 
was  attended  by  many  of  the  prominent  citizens.  It  was 
Reed's  home  county,  and  as  he  had  just  succeeded  in 
securing  the  passage  of  a  law  creating  a  normal  school 
at  Drain,  much  of  the  attention  of  the  people  was  justly 
given  to  him. 

"Al"  Reed  was  a  prince  of  good  fellows  and  no  man 
enjoyed  a  practical  joke  more  than  he.  That  evening, 
among  his  home  friends,  he  was  at  his  best,  greeted 
everybody  with  a  hearty  salutation,  and  passed  cigars 
around  among  such  of  them  as  were  smokers.  He  had 
purchased  a  half-dozen  small  explosives  which  he  secreted 
in  the  "front  end"  of  several  cigars,  the  result  being  that, 
in  a  few  moments,  the  fire  having  ignited  the  mixture, 
an  explosion  would  occur  that  for  an  instant  frightened 
the  victim  completely  out  of  his  wits.  This  joke  had 
been  played  on  several  of  the  visitors  as  they  came  in, 
those  previously  victimized  enjoying  the  game  to  the 
utmost.     It  certainly  was  great  fun. 

Toward  the  latter  part  of  the  evening  Representative 
J.  T.  Bridges  came  in,  and  Reed,  having  no  loaded  cigar 
at  the  moment,  retired  to  his  room  across  the  hall  to 
prepare  one  out  of  a  bunch  of  three.    Upon  returning 

449 


450  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

he  offered  one  to  Bridges,  which  he  affably  accepted, 
and  took  one  of  the  others  himself.  The  crowd  awaited 
developments,  their  eyes  in  the  meantime  fixed  on 
Bridges.  When  the  time  had  arri  ;ed  for  the  worst  to 
happen  to  Bridges,  there  was  a  fearful  explosion  in  the 
direction  of  Reed,  and  the  cloud  of  smoke  enveloping 
his  head,  together  witli  the  frightened  and  surprised 
countenance  he  presented,  served  to  show  that  he  was 
the  victim  of  his  own  joke. 

The  entire  assemblage  at  once  gathered  around  Reed, 
and  while  the  house  rang  with  shouts  of  laughter,  he 
was  hauled  here  and  there,  stripped  of  his  coat  and  vest 
and  made  to  submit  to  the  application  of  a  huge  wet 
towel,  though  he  was  not  hurt  at  all.  The  only  man  in 
the  crowd  who  seemed  nonplussed  at  the  proceedings  was 
Bridges. 

During  the  same  evening  McGuire  surprised  even  his 
most  intimate  friends  by  giving  several  recitals  which 
proved  him  a  skilled  elocutionist,  an  accomplishment 
which  few  were  aware  he  possessed.  The  evening  was 
one  long  to  be  remembered  by  those  present  as  one  of 
especial  enjoyment  among  friends  of  long  standing. 

The  next  morning  Reed,  J\IcGuire  and  a  few  others 
boarded  the  train  for  Winchester,  ten  miles  away,  at 
the  point  where  the  road  crosses  the  North  Umpqua. 
Here  they  took  a  skiff  and  proceeded  down  the  river  for 
the  purpose  of  inspecting  locations  which  might  be  avail- 
able for  the  establishment  of  a  fish  hatchery.  The  trip 
could  have  been  made  just  as  well  by  land,  and  the 
danger  of  passing  through  the  rapids  every  few  miles 
was  clearl}'-  explained.  But  this  warning  seemed  only 
to  make  Reed  more  determined  to  make  the  journey  by 
water;  he  knew  every  foot  of  the  river,  he  said,  and  was 
not  at  all  afraid. 

They  finally  secured  a  skiff  at  Winchester — not  a  very 
good  one  at  that — and  proceeded  down  the  river.  About 
five  miles  from  their  starting  point  one  of  the  men  re- 
marked that  he  seemed  to  hear  the  roaring  of  water  just 
beyond  the  bend  they  were  approaching.     While  they 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  451 

drifted  and  listened,  they  whirled  around  an  abrupt  turn 
in  the  river  and  before  anything  could  be  done  toward 
effecting  a  landing  their  frail  bark  was  drawn  into  the 
angry,  boiling  water  and  overturned.  One  of  the  men 
was  able  to  swim  to  the  shore.  While  he  was  struggling, 
he  afterward  said,  he  saw  Reed  clinging  to  the  over- 
turned boat,  but  he  was  never  seen  afterward.  McGuire 
was  not  seen  at  all.  but  a  week  later  his  body  was  found 
a  few  miles  below ;  Reed's  was  recovered  months  after- 
ward.  Thus  sadly  ended  a  trip  that  began  under  cir- 
cumstances that  promised  the  highest  degree  of  pleasure. 

General  Tuttle  and  I  visited  the  Soldiers'  Home  that 
afternoon.  While  resting  at  the  hotel,  about  four  o'clock, 
a  runner  came  from  Winchester  bearing  the  news  that 
Reed  and  his  party  had  been  drowned.  For  some  time 
it  was  thought  the  report  was  one  of  Reed's  jokes, 
attempted  at  the  expense  of  those  who  had  expressed 
their  fears  for  the  safety  of  the  party,  and  not  until 
the  report  came  again,  with  some  of  the  particulars  of 
the  tragedy,  did  the  city  awake  to  a  realization  of  what 
had  actually  happened. 

"Al"  Reed  was  a  member  of  the  Lower  House  in  the 
Legislature  of  1891,  when  I  was  Speaker,  and  I  had 
become  warmly  attached  to  him  as  a  man  of  splendid 
impulses  and  great  activity.  He  was  elected  to  the  State 
Senate  in  1896,  had  been  a  niember  of  that  body  during 
the  famous  "hold-up"  session  of  '97,  and  at  the  time 
of  his  death  had  just  completed  his  term  of  office.  His 
home  was  at  Gardner,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Umpqua 
River,  and  he  was  one  of  its  leading  business  men,  being 
extensively  engaged  in  the  dairy  and  sawmill  business. 

Hollister  McGuire  was  less  well  known  than  Reed, 
but  he  had  been  a  very  efficient  Fish  Commissioner  and 
had  made  a  thorough  study  of  the  mysterious  habits  of 
the  Chinook  salmon,  his  report  on  that  question  having 
added  much  to  the  meager  information  then  possessed. 
His  death  was  a  distinct  loss  to  the  State  of  Oregon. 

Through  McGuire's  activity  a  State  hatchery  had  been 
established   on  the   Clackamas  River  about  sixtv  miles 


452  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

east  of  its  confluence  with  the  Willamette  River,  and 
as  members  of  the  State  Fish  Commission,  Treasurer 
Moore,  Secretary  of  State  Dunbar  and  myself  visited 
that  place  in  the  fall  of  1900.  Accompanying  us  was 
F.  C.  Reed,  successor  to  McGuire  and  State  Senator 
Andrew  C.  Smith,  of  Multnomah,  who  went  along  by 
invitation.  The  trip  is  most  delightful  at  any  time 
during  the  summer  or  fall  months.  It  is  well  back  in 
the  Cascade  Mountains,  the  last  twenty  miles  being  made 
over  a  trail  on  riding-horses  and  packhorses.  The  scenery 
is  not  to  be  surpassed  anywhere.  Part  of  the  trail  runs  on 
the  top  of  ridges  at  least  a  mile  above  the  river,  which 
at  some  points  may  be  seen  winding  its  way  towards  the 
west  like  a  thread  of  silver  among  the  great  trees,  losing 
itself  as  it  abruptly  darts  around  some  bluff  or  rock  which, 
perhaps,  towers  above  it  fully  one  thousand  feet.  Mt. 
Jefiferson  is  not  far  away  and  Mt.  Hood  can  frequently 
be  seen  from  the  highest  points  of  the  trail. 

At  the  hatchery  we  found  a  goodly  representation  of 
the  Warm  Spring  Indians  already  present,  their  purpose 
being  to  secure  the  dead  salmon  which  the  hatchery  men 
throw  away  after  the  eggs  have  been  taken  from  them. 
These  they  dry  for  their  winter  use  by  smoking  them 
over  a  slow  fire.  A  female  salmon  always  dies  after 
spawning,  but  postpones  this  operation  until  she  reaches 
the  highest  possible  point  of  the  stream  she  selects  for 
this  purpose.  After  entering  fresh  water,  the  salmon 
refuses  food  and,  as  may  be  imagined,  by  the  time  she 
has  traveled  against  the  swift  waters  of  a  mountain 
stream  for  a  week  she  is  not  a  very  attractive  object  upon 
which  to  feast.  The  last  thing  a  female  salmon  does  is 
to  die  ( !),  and  the  next  to  the  last  thing  is  to  spawn. 
It  is  in  this  condition  the  hatchery  men  find  them,  and 
by  catching  them  in  seines  and  killing  them,  the  eggs  are 
taken  from  them  and  hatched  artificially. 

But  the  Indians  are  not  too  particular.  All  fish  look 
alike  to  them.  I  remember  that  when  we  arrived  there 
was  a  large  salmon  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  pond 
which,  the  men  said,  had  been  there  for  at  least  ten  days. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  453 

Presently  we  saw  an  Indian  dive  for  it.  He  secured  it 
after  the  third  trial  and  added  it  to  his  rare  collection  of 
smokable  delicacies. 

One  morning,  after  the  stripping  of  the  eggs  from  all 
the  female  salmon  that  appeared  to  be  "ripe,"  we  went 
down  the  river  a  hundred  yards  to  watch  the  Indians 
drying  salmon.  We  found  they  had  erected  frames  of 
poles,  about  six  feet  from  the  ground,  on  which  they 
hung  their  fish  and  keeping  slow  fires  beneath  them  until 
the  consistency — and  odor,  I  suppose — had  reached  a 
satisfactory  state.  They  had  about  two  hundred  fish  then 
in  all  stages  of  preservation, — though  that  is  really  not 
the  correct  word  to  use  in  this  connection. 

There  was  a  young  squaw  sitting  on  the  ground  near 
a  large  fir  tree,  engaged  in  weaving  a  basket.  None  of 
us  had  ever  before  seen  an  Indian  basket  in  the  course 
of  construction  and  the  process  was  quite  interesting. 
We  stood  about  ten  feet  in  the  rear  of  the  young  woman, 
W'ho  was,  apparently,  unconscious  of  our  presence,  after 
the  manner  of  the  true  Indian,  and  never  looked  in  our 
direction.  Finally  I  said  to  my  companions:  "Why 
not  open  a  conversation  with  the  copper  colored  beauty  ?" 
Having  made  the  suggestion,  I  was  importuned  to  try  the 
experiment.  I  had  before  this  remarked  that  when  a 
boy  in  Salem  I  was  a  master  of  the  Chinook  jargon  and 
could  talk  it  perfectly.  This,  then,  they  said,  was  my 
opportunity.  There  was  a  young  papoose  strapped  to 
a  board,  leaning  against  the  tree,  to  whom  the  woman 
w^ould  occasionally  direct  a  look  or  word,  apparently  of 
reassurance.  Assuming  that  she  was  the  mother  of  the 
kid  and,  following  the  same  line  of  reasoning,  concluding 
that  she  had  a  husband,  I  began : 

"Kah  mika — man?"  I  failed  to  recall  the  Chinook 
word  for  husband,  so  substituted  the  English  word,  the 
question  being:     "Where  is  your  husband?" 

Without  showing  by  her  manner  the  slightest  indica- 
tion of  a  knowledge  of  our  presence  or  that  she  had 
been  spoken  to,  she  replied : 

"Home." 


454  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

lliis  "come  back"  in  English  at  once  subjected  me 
to  the  jibes  of  my  companions  and  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible smile  on  the  face  of  the  woman.  Not  to  be 
outdone,  or  undone,  I  went  at  it  again. 

"Mica — man — mammook — baskets?" 

My  question  was  an  inquiry  if  her  husband  could 
make  baskets,  couched,  to  be  sure,  in  mixed  Chinook  and 
English.  Without  showing  any  special  interest  in  the 
matter,  she  answered  : 

"Nope." 

Another  round  of  laughter,  tinged  with  ridicule,  came 
from  my  heartless  associates;  but  this  only  spurred  me 
on,  so  I  said  : 

"Then  mica  man  cultus  man?"  the  meaning  of  which 
was  intended  to  be.  "Your  husband  is  no  account  then?" 

And  here  came  a  revelation,  to  wit.  that  an  Indian  is 
not  altogether  devoid  of  the  sense  of  humor.  With  a 
quickness  that  was  surprising,  the  woman  for  the  first 
time  showed  some  interest  in  the  conversation  and,  turn- 
ing toward  me  slightly,  though  keeping  at  her  vvork, 
said: 

"Do  you  make  baskets?" 

Then  I  knew  what  was  coming,  and  so  did  my  villain- 
ous companions,  who  made  no  effort  to  restrain  their 
merriment  over  my  discomfiture.  Of  course,  I  made  the 
answer  that  T  knew  nothing  of  the  art  of  making  baskets, 
when  she  retorted  quickly : 

"Then  you  are  a  'cultus'  man." 

At  this  the  two-legged  hyenas  who  were  standing 
around,  and  who  I  had  supposed  were  my  friends,  ex- 
hibited every  known  symptom  of  insanity,  some  of  them 
falling  prone  upon  the  ground  and  shouting  like  the 
lunatics  they  were. 

The  fact  was,  the  girl  had  attended  the  school  at  the 
Government  Agency  at  Warm  Spring  and  could  speak 
as  good  English  as  anybody,  and  didn't  use  any  other 
language  except  upon  special  occasions — and  this  was  not 
one  of  them. 

This  incident  proves  that  one   never  knows  what   is 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  455 

coming  when  talking  to  a  stranger  anyway,  even  if  the 
other  man,  or  woman,  be  white.  I  recall  that  when  living 
on  my  farm  in  the  Waldo  Hills,  I  heard  one  day  that  the 
old  Elijah  Smith  place  had  been  purchased  by  a  man 
from  Ohio.  The  newcomer  had  been  in  possession  of 
his  home  for  three  months  before  I  happened  to  meet 
him,  though  I  had  heard  that  he  was  a  very  talkative 
man  and  grew  well  acquainted  with  you  at  first  sight. 

One  afternoon  I  was  in  the  road  between  the  house 
and  barn  when  a  man  came  along  driving  a  team  and, 
stopping,  asked  me,  after  calling  my  name,  if  I  had  any 
relatives  in  Ohio.  I  told  him  I  had.  that  my  father  was 
born  there  and  that  many  of  the  family  name  had  been 
in  that  State  for  over  half  a  century. 

"Well,"  he  said,  'T  lived  in  Lima,  in  that  State,  for 
tw^enty  years,  and  there  was  a  man  there  of  your  name, 
a  lawyer,  who  had  one  side  or  the  other  in  every  im- 
portant case  in  the  Circuit  Court  at  every  term.  He 
nearly  always  won  his  side  of  the  case,  too.  was  a  popu- 
lar public  speaker  and  always  in  demand  during  political 
campaigns.     Everybody  liked  him  and " 

"Oh.  well,"  I  interrupted,  "from  the  description  I 
know  he  was  one  of  our  family,  and  close  in,  at  that." 

'Tt  might  be,"  was  his  quick  reply,  "but  he  had  a 
brother  in  the  insane  asylum,"  and  I  was  left  stranded, 
wondering  what  had  become  of  my  attempt  at  facetious- 
ness. 

That  reminds  me  of  a  circumstance  that  occurred 
during  the  summer  of  1902.  I  was  invited  by  Colonel 
Judson,  the  industrial  agent  of  the  O.  R.  &  N.  Co.,  to 
visit  his  experimental  farm  in  the  W^alla  \Valla  valley. 
After  w^e  had  inspected  his  ranch  and  the  results  of  dry 
farming,  we  went  to  the  Marcus  Whitman  monument, 
some  miles  out  of  town,  which  is  erected  on  a  low  hill 
overlooking  the  spot  where  Dr.  Whitman  was  massacred 
by  the  Cayuse  Indians  in  November,  1847.  After  our 
return  to  Walla  Walla,  Levi  Ankeny.  afterward  United 
States  Senator  from  Washington,  entertained  our  party 


456  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

at  the  Commercial  Club.  Ankeny  is  the  richest  man  in 
the  State  of  Washington,  though  in  his  early  days  he 
ran  a  pack-train  from  the  Umatilla  Landing  to  Lewiston. 
His  boyhood  was  spent  in  Oregon,  his  father  having 
been  one  of  the  pioneers  of  Portland.  Levi  Ankeny 
owns  several  large  wheat  ranches  in  the  Palouse  country 
which  he  rents  out,  but  each  fall  he  visits  his  farms 
during  harvesting  time,  gratifying  his  great  liking  for 
hunting  at  the  same  time. 

The  year  before  our  visit  he  had  gone  as  usual  to  his 
farms  in  August  and,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  the  ordinary 
hunter,  was  going  from  field  to  field  with  his  gun  on  his 
shoulder,  bagging  an  occasional  bird  and  inspecting  the 
result  of  the  year's  efforts. 

Coming  to  one  field  where  a  steam  thresher  was  at 
work,  he  walked  through  the  heavy  stubble  to  where  the 
huge  engine  was  driving  the  machine.  It  was  one  of 
the  kind  that  burns  straw  for  fuel,  but  Ankeny,  as  he 
stood  there,  saw  the  fireman  throwing  large  forksful  of 
headed  wheat  into  the  furnace.  After  he  had  done  this 
several  times,  Anken}^  approached  him  and  said : 

*T  see  you  burn  headed  wheat  in  this  engine,  though 
it  is  a  straw  burner." 

"Yep,"  replied  the  fireman,  as  he  pitched  another  fork- 
ful of  wheat  into  the  furnace  and  slammed  the  door  shut. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  Ankeny,  save  to  show  his  an- 
noyance at  being  bothered  by  a  stray  hunter. 

After  a  minute  Ankeny  said : 

"But  I'd  think  the  man  who  owns  this  grain  wouldn't 
like  you  to  use  his  wheat  this  way  when  there  is  an 
abundance  of  straw  which  will  be  burned  in  bulk  after- 
ward to  get  it  out  of  the  way.  Burning  wheat,  when  it 
is  ninety  cents  a  bushel,  is  an  expensive  proposition, 
don't  you  think?" 

At  this  the  man  opened  the  door  again,  hurled  a  lot 
of  the  wheat  into  the  devouring  flames  and  said,  as  he 
slammed  the  door  shut  and  wiped  a  stream  of  perspira- 
tion from  his  face  with  his  sleeve : 

"Oh,  the  man  that  owns  all  this  countrv  is  an  old  duffer 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  457 

down  to  Walla  Walla  that  is  so  rich,  they  say,  that  he 
doesn't  know  what  to  do  with  his  money.  Don't  make 
no  difference  to  him.  Besides,  he'll  never  know  anything 
about  it." 

Ankeny  said  the  assurance  and  composure  of  the 
fellow  were  so  sublime  that  he  said  nothing  further  to 
him — but  that  night  the  whole  "outfit"  moved  out  of  his 
field  and  the  job  was  finished  by  other  and  more  conr 
scientious  men. 

All  of  which  illustrates  how  necessary  it  is,  in  ex- 
changing confidences,  to  be  sure  you  are  right  well 
acquainted  with  the  other  fellow — and  even  then  feel 
your  way  with  some  caution. 

Speaking  of  loyalty  to  one's  State  or  community  re- 
minds me  of  an  instance  occurring  in  Oregon  a  few  years 
ago  that  forcibly  illustrates  the  value  of  such  fidelity  and 
the  tangible  results  of  advertising,  as  the  newspapers  say. 

In  June,  1902.  the  national  gathering  of  the  Ancient 
Order  of  United  Workmen  met  in  Portland.  After  its 
adjournment  the  delegates  made  a  trip  to  Astoria,  whose 
people  treated  them  to  a  huge  salmon  bake.  After  the 
repast  was  over  one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  party 
related  this  circumstance : 

"Oregon  is  a  great  country — great  far  beyond  our 
most  exaggerated  anticipations.  Here  we  are  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  River  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
how  it  all  happened. 

"I  was  a  visitor  to  the  Omaha  Exposition  in  1898,  and 
while  passing  through  the  Oregon  exhibit  there  saw  on 
a  plate  what  purported  to  be  three  cherries.  They  were 
so  very  large,  so  far  beyond  anything  in  the  cherry  line 
that  I  had  ever  dreamed  of,  that  I  said  to  my  companion, 
That  is  a  pretty  good  representation  of  a  cherry,  isn't 
it?'  and  he  agreed  with  me. 

"There  was  a  young  man  behind  the  table,  in  charge 
of  things,  and  I  said  to  him :  'Big  cherries,  aren't  they?' 
'Yes,'  he  said,  'fairly  good  size.'  He  said  it  so  unaf- 
fectedly that  I  admired  him  for  his  coolness  in  trying  to 
fool  a  visitor  more  than  I  did  the  excellent  art  which  had 


458  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

produced  such  a  faithful  representation  of  a  cherry.  In 
a  moment,  however,  when  his  back  was  turned,  I  picked 
up  one  of  them,  disregarding  the  sign  'Hands  Off,"  and 
I  must  confess  to  you  that  I  was  never  more  surprised 
in  my  life  than  to  discover  that  it  was  a  real,  red-blooded 
cherry.  I  replaced  it  on  the  plate  and  went  my  way, 
wondering  what  sort  of  a  country  Oregon  was,  anyway. 

"Last  year  while  our  National  Convention  w-as  in 
session  I  w^as  engaged  in  some  committee  work  one  day 
when  I  had  occasion  to  pass  through  the  Convention  hall. 
The  delegates  were  considering  the  always  interesting 
and  more  or  less  exciting  question  as  to  where  they  would 
next  meet,  w^hen  I  heard  a  delegate  call  the  name  of 
Portland,  Oregon.  At  once  I  recalled  that  cherry  at 
Omaha,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  would  like  to  see  the 
country  that  could  produce  such  a  wonderful  specimen 
of  luscious  fruit  as  that  was.  I  always  go  to  these  great 
gatherings,  so  I  stopped  right  there  and  then,  got  into 
the  fray,  rustled  around  among  my  friends,  inducing 
them  to  vote  for  Portland  and,  by  a  very  small  margin, 
we  won  out. 

"So,  here  we  are,  friends,  eight  hundred  of  us,  coming 
from  every  part  of  these  United  States,  all  of  us  boosters, 
and  w^hen  we  go  to  our  respective  homes  in  all  the  States, 
we  will  have  endless  good  things  to  say  to  an  almost 
endless  number  of  people  about  this  great  country — and 
it  all  comes  about  on  account  of  that  phenomenally  big 
cherry  you  had  on  exhibition  at  Omaha  in  1898." 


CHAPTER  LXI 

At  the  last  minute  of  the  last  night  of  the  session  of 
the  Legislature  in  1901  John  H.  Mitchell  was  elected  to 
the  United  States  Senate  for  his  fourth  and  last  term. 
The  term  of  George  W.  McBride  was  about  to  expire, 
and  though  he  was  a  candidate  for  re-election  and  had 
the  support  of  Mitchell,  he  could  not  secure  a  sufficient 
number  of  votes  to  insure  his  success  at  any  time.  A 
number  of  Republicans  warmly  supported  Mitchell  who 
would  not  vote  for  McBride,  and  it  was  freely  and 
publicly  said  during  the  entire  contest  that  the  ultimate 
purpose  was  to  prevent  McBride's  election,  though  osten- 
sibly favoring  him,  until  the  last  moment,  when  the 
"game"  was  to  bring  Mitchell  into  the  race  and  force 
his  election  under  the  guise  of  a  necessity  to  avoid  a 
vacancy  in  the  Senate. 

H.  W.  Corbett  was  an  active  candidate  against  both 
McBride  and  Mitchell  and  remained  in  the  field  until  the 
very  last  minute,  but  he  could  never  muster  the  required 
number  of  votes.  Therefore,  "as  a  last  resort,"  and 
"according  to  program,"  as  many  said,  the  name  of 
A-Iitchell  was  sprung  just  before  adjournment  and,  amid 
one  of  the  most  exciting  experiences  ever  seen  or  felt 
in  a  Senatorial  election,  he  was  chosen  by  receiving  the 
necessary  forty-six  votes  fully  fifteen  minutes  after  the 
hour  fixed  for  adjournment  had  arrived. 

A  ballot  had  been  taken  five  minutes  before  midnight, 
the  last  to  be  had — which  was  realized, — and  Alitchell, 
after  the  result  had  been  canvassed,  still  lacked  one  vote. 
There  were  at  least  twenty  of  his  faithful  adherents  on 
the  floor  of  the  House  working  "like  beavers"  among 
such  members  as  they  considered  doubtful  supporters  of 
Corbett.  urging  them  personally,  "for  God's  sake,"  to 
change  to  Mitchell  and  not  "disgrace  the  State  and  them- 
selves   by    adjourning    without    electing    a     Senator." 

459 


46o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

Mitchell  was  not  chosen  on  the  first  ballot  after  his 
name  had  been  presented,  and  this  sort  of  personal 
soliciting  had  been  prosecuted  vigilantly  for  an  hour. 

When  it  was  known,  however,  that  the  last  ballot  was 
taken,  and  there  still  lacked  one  vote,  there  was  such 
skirmishing  and  rushing  about  among  the  members  as 
one  would  scarcely  believe  vv'ould  be  tolerated  in  a  leg- 
islative body.  When  that  scene  is  recalled,  with  a  faith- 
ful picture  of  all  its  sidelights,  one  can  scarcely  wonder 
at  the  tenacity  with  which  the  people  cling  to  and  support 
what  is  known  as  the  present  "Oregon  System"  of  Sen- 
atorial elections. 

The  result  of  the  last  vote  had  been  counted  by 
Charles  W.  Fulton ;  but  he  knew,  as  did  every  man  in 
the  vast  audience  of  spectators,  that  there  was  lacking 
one  vote  and  that  there  was  no  election.  Fulton  saw 
there  were  a  score  of  men  on  the  floor  darting  here  and 
there  among  the  members,  working  like  mad  trying  to 
induce  some  one  man  to  change  his  vote — any  man, — 
and  for  this  reason  did  not  "see"  the  clerk,  who  him- 
self had  delayed  the  matter  until  he  could  not  invent 
another  reason  for  not  presenting  the  tally  to  the  pre- 
siding officer.  But  with  the  skill  of  a  trained  politician, 
and  with  that  fidelity  to  Mitchell  which  he  had  always 
displayed,  Fulton  continued  to  watch  the  efforts  of  those 
who  Vk-ere  begging  members  to  change  their  votes  "to 
save  the  good  name  of  the  State,"  and  "overlooked"  the 
clerk,  who  held  the  tally  sheet  as  high  as  he  could  reach. 

Finally,  three  men  surrounded  Mattoon,  of  Douglas 
County,  who  had  supported  Corbett  loyally  through  the 
entire  contest,  and,  with  tears  in  their  voices,  if  not  in 
their  eyes,  urged  him  "for  the  love  of  the  State  and  for 
his  own  good  name  to  be  the  one  man  who  would 
subordinate  his  personal  desires  to  the  public  welfare  and 
change  to  Mitchell."  Literally,  they  lifted  him  to  his 
feet  and,  as  he  stood,  he  addressed  the  presiding  officer. 
This  was  the  signal  for  a  possible  change,  and  at  once 
the  tremendous  din  which  filled  the  house  ceased,  as  it 
was  realized  that  something  was  to  happen. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  461 

I  was  standing  by  the  side  of  Mitchell  in  the  large 
committee  room  which  joins  the  Representative  Hall  on 
the  northeast,  from  the  connecting  door  of  which  we 
could  see  the  proceedings.  When  Mattoon  rose  to  his 
feet  and  remained  "put"  after  his  "assailants"  had  taken 
their  hands  ofif  him,  I  said  to  Mitchell : 

"Senator,  there  is  your  forty-sixth  vote." 

"No,"  he  said,  and  his  face  was  not  more  barren  of 
color  when  I  saw  him  in  his  coffin  a  few  years  later, 
"that's  Mattoon.  and  he  is  merely  going  to  give  his 
reason  for  not  changing  his  vote." 

But  Mattoon  said : 

"Mr.  President,  as  is  well  known,  my  choice  for  United 
States  Senator  has  been,  and  is  at  this  moment,  Hon. 
H.  W.  Corbett,  but  it  is  now  plain  to  be  seen  that  he 
cannot  be  elected ;  therefore,  in  order  that  we  may  not 
adjourn  without  the  election  of  a  Senator  I  change  my 
vote  to  Hon.  John  H.  Mit ," 

At  that  moment  such  a  yell  arose  in  that  hall  as 
seemed  to  jar  the  very  foundations  of  the  Capitol  itself, 
and  as  it  has  recently  been  claimed  that  it  is  not  really 
safe,  and  that  cracks  are  to  be  seen  in  its  walls,  my 
opinion  is  that  the  damage  was  begun  at  that  time. 

It  was  not  generally  known  that  Mitchell  was  a  spec- 
tator of  the  dramatic  scene;  but  of  course  a  few  knew 
where  he  was,  and  when  the  vote  was  finally  declared, 
he  was  called  for  by  thousands  of  voices  and,  almost 
carried  on  the  shoulders  of  a  score  of  friends,  was  taken 
to  the  President's  platform  where  he  made  a  very 
felicitous  address,  thanking  the  legislators  for  their 
"partiality"  and  expressing  his  gratitude  for  their  "con- 
tinued confidence,"  etc. 

And  that  was  John  H.  Mitchell's  last  election  to  the 
United  States  Senate.  Before  that  term  expired  he  was 
in  his  grave,  safe  from  further  political  or  personal 
attack,  sent  hither  prematurely,  it  is  generally  admitted, 
by  reason  of  his  prosecution  for  complicity  in  land  frauds 
against  the  Government. 


462  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  election  of  Mitchell  in  1901  was  marked  by  a 
surprise  to  the  people  of  Oregon  in  that  it  was  accepted 
with  good  grace  by  Harvey  W.  Scott,  the  veteran  editor 
of  the  Oregonian,  his  political  and  personal  enemy 
during  a  bitter  warfare  of  thirty  years'  duration.  Asked 
for  an  explanation  of  his  abandonment  of  the  "fight 
against  Mitchell"  by  those  who  had  been  his  warmest 
supporters  in  that  ugly  crusade,  and  who  were  not  dis- 
posed to  permit  any  cessation  of  it  merely  because  he  had 
been  successful  again,  Mr.  Scott  said,  in  substance : 
"What's  the  use?  Shall  it  be  continued  until  the  end? 
And  for  what?  The  people  of  Oregon  appear  to  like 
Mitchell,  and  nothing  appeals  to  them  as  against 
Mitchell's  personality.  Fni  done.  If  anybody  wants  to 
keep  up  the  fight,  well  and  good,  but  I  am  getting  along 
in  years  and  do  not  propose  to  follow  further  the  fight 
against  Mitchell." 

And  he  did  not.  Even  during  Mitchell's  last  days — 
days  of  sorrow,  adversity  and  of  disgrace — Mr.  Scott 
avoided  any  personal  spleen  in  the  discussion  of  the 
affair  and  they  were,  at  least  on  the  surface,  good 
friends.  On  Mitchell's  return  to  Portland,  after  his  elec- 
tion in  1901,  his  friends  gave  a  little  supper  in  his 
honor,  and  my  recollection  is  that  Mr.  Scott  w^as  present 
and  extended  his  congratulations.  Afterward  they  fre- 
quently met  in  public  and  private,  and  ga\'e  every  evidence 
of  a  disposition  to  forget  the  bitterness  of  the  past  and  to 
recognize  that  they  were  both  gray-haired  men  who  had 
readied  that  time  of  life  when  charity  is  a  better  personal 
characteristic  than  malevolence  and  persecution. 

For  thirty  years  the  "fight  between  Scott  and  Mitchell" 
was  the  dominating  factor  in  Oregon  political  life.  All 
the  difficulties  of  the  Republican  party,  and  they  have 
been  legion,  have  been  directly  traceable  to  the  break 
between  these  two  really  strong  men  when  they  were 
both  young,  and  such  successes  as  the  Democratic  party 
has  had  in  this  State  can  be  as  directly  followed  to  that 
source. 

Mitchell  and  Scott  were  as  unlike  in  temperament  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  463 

method  as  it  is  possible  for  two  men  to  be.  Scott  was 
able,  irascible,  unrelenting  in  his  pursuit  of  an  antagonist, 
and  during  the  fifty  years  of  his  active  life  had  at  his 
disposal  a  newspaper  of  wide  circulation,  which  last 
leverage  he  did  not  fail  to  use  to  its  fullest  power.  And 
it  was  great.  He  was  a  very  positive  man,  courageous, 
without  question,  and  a  master  in  the  use  of  incisive 
English.  He  w^as  a  born  fighter  and  critic.  It  w^as 
usually  only  the  man  whom  he  thought  wrong  that  he 
discussed  in  the  Oregonian.  His  opinion  was,  evidently, 
that  to  do  right  is  to  be  expected  of  a  man,  and  as 
long  as  that  was  his  course,  he  was  not  w-orth  a  mention ; 
but  the  moment  he  espoused  a  cause  or  expressed  an 
opinion  that  Scott  thought  wrong,  or  incorrect,  his 
vitriolic  pen  was  brought  into  service  with  a  vigor  that 
compelled  one's  admiration — provided  it  was  the  other 
fellow  who  was  under  consideration! 

Some  men  have  been  thought  to  have  a  "double,"  but 
Harvey  Scott  had  none.  For  forty  years  he  had  at  his 
command  the  only  paper  in  Oregon  which  had  any  con- 
siderable circulation ;  the  Oregonian  was  of  such  char- 
acter that  it  "printed  all  the  news"  and  was  read  by  the 
general  public  of  all  parties.  Whatever  Mr.  Scott  said 
was  known  and  commented  upon  everywhere,  and  his 
opinions  were  not  successfully  combated  for  the  reason 
that  there  was  no  way  of  disseminating  an  opposite 
opinion.  He  could  belittle  a  cause,  or  a  man,  before 
tliousands  of  people,  and  the  other  side  was  powerless  to 
retaliate  because  there  w-as  no  possible  way  of  reaching 
the  public  ear. 

It  was  the  reason,  I  think,  that  Mr.  Scott  developed 
in  the  course  of  his  lifetime  an  overbearing  disposition. 
He  had  little  patience  with  opposition.  He  could  batter 
down  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  powerful  pen,  aided  by 
the  unopposed  circulation  of  the  Oregonian,  any  man 
or  cause  which  incurred  his  displeasure  and,  quite  nat- 
urally, in  the  course  of  forty  years  of  such  experience, 
to  dominate  became  his  second  nature. 

Mr.  Scott  was  a  man  of  moods,    A  visit  to  his  sanctum 


464  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

was  always  the  occasion  of  speculation  on  the  part  of 
the  caller  as  to  the  kind  of  reception  he  would  receive. 
Sometimes  he  would  be  the  very  personification  of  affa- 
bility and  his  greeting  would  be  effusive  to  a  degree,  but 
on  other  occasions  he  would  look  like  a  cloud-bank  por- 
tending a  Texas  cyclone.  ImiI  it  may  at  least  be  said  in 
his  defense  that  he  was  not  hypocritical. 

I  remember  that  I  once  called  upon  him.  while  in 
Portland,  during  the  days  when  I  lived  on  the  farm,  and 
found  him  decidedly  in  what  might  be  called  the 
"dumps."  He  was  in  his  familiar  coatless  costume  and 
hard  at  work  at  his  desk.  After  the  usual  greetings,  I 
said: 

''Well,  how  are  you  getting  along,  Mr.  Scott?" 

"Oh,  poorly  enough !"  was  his  reply.  "Working 
myself  to  death  and  getting  little  for  it.  If  there's  noth- 
ing in  life  but  ceaseless  hard  work,  what  is  it  all  worth?" 

"But,"  I  said,  "you  have  built  up  a  great  newspaper 
here,  and  at  least  have  made  a  name  for  yourself  that 
is  well  and  favorably  knowai  all  over  the  United  States." 

"There's  nothing  in  a  so-called  great  name."  he  re- 
plied. "You  are  missed  and  mourned  for  a  day  after 
you  are  gone,  and  that  is  the  last  of  a  'great  name'  ?" 

"But,  even  if  that  were  so,"  I  continued,  endeavoring 
to  lead  him  into  a  more  cheerful  train  of  thought,  "here 
is  the  Oregonian,  which  is  admired  and  quoted  every- 
where for  its  ability  and  enterprise.  It  is  something  to 
have  been  identified  with  it  as  its  editor  for  thirty  years 
and  more." 

As  we  were  talking,  we  were  standing  by  one  of  the 

windows  in  Mr.  Scott's  editorial  rooms.    From  that  great 

elevation   we   could   clearly  see   Mt.    Hood,   fifty  miles 

'away,  presenting  one  of  the  most  magnificent  pictures 

'  which  Nature's  brush  has  painted  anywhere  on  the  face 

of  the  earth.     Mr.  Scott  resumed  : 

"But  the  Oregonian  can  never  have  a  big  circulation. 
If  I  had  cast  my  lot  in  New  York  or  Chicago  I  might 
have  something  to  show  for  my  endless  toil ;  but  as  it  is, 
we  have  only  a  narrow  strip  up  the  valley  and  eastern 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  465 

Oregon  on  which  to  draw  for  support — and  what  does 
that  amount  to — what  does  it  promise  ?  Now,  look  at  that 
mountain  out  there" — pointing  to  Mt.  Hood — "how  far 
do  you  suppose  it  is  through  it  at  its  base?" 

"Oh,  about  twenty  miles,  perhaps,"  I  answered,  not 
seeing  the  drift  of  the  conversation. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "then  it  covers  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  four  hundred  square  miles,  a  huge  pile  of  rocks 
that  we  call  beautiful — and  it  does  well  enough  to  look 
at.  But  suppose  it  was  a  prairie  country,  like  Illinois — 
there  would  be  thousands  of  readers  of  the  Oregonian 
where  now  there  is  not  one!" 

And,  of  course,  there  was  no  fitting  answer  to  that. 

Another  phase  of  Mr.  Scott's  moods  was  shown  when 
I  called  upon  him,  in  answer  to  his  request,  just  before 
the  Astoria  Convention  in  1898.  There  were  two  Re- 
publican conventions  in  Multnomah  County  that  year, 
the  "Mitchell"  and  the  "Simon,"  each  electing  a  full 
delegation  to  the  State  convention,  and  the  situation 
promised  much  trouble  there.  I  had  already  carried 
Marion  County  in  the  contest  for  the  nomination  for 
Governor,  which  virtually  settled  the  matter  in  my  favor, 
but  I  was  not  the  real  choice  of  either  faction  in  Mult- 
nomah County,  though  they  seemed  to  have  acquiesced 
in  the  sentiment  which  prevailed  in  the  State  at  large. 

I  had  gone  to  Portland  to  see  Mr.  Scott  on  the  day 
these  two  conventions  met,  though  I  did  not  know  the 
date  of  the  approaching  events.  I  was  talking  to  a 
friend  in  the  old  "Multopor"  Club  rooms  when  somebody 
'phoned  the  news  that  the  Mitchell  convention  had  passed 
resolutions  warmly  endorsing  me  for  Governor.  This 
was  a  surprise,  since  I  had  not  expected  it  and  did  not 
know  the  convention  was  in  session,  and,  furthermore, 
I  had  not  yet  seen  Mr.  Scott,  and  was  fearful  lest  such 
action  would  incense  him  and,  possibly,  turn  his  support 
from  me,  since  he  had  been  an  active  advocate  of  Gov- 
ernor Lord's  renomination. 

It  was  for  this  reason  that  I  went  to  the  Oregonian 
office,  dreading  that  T  should  find  Mr.  Scott  in  a  great 


466  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

rage.  But  when  I  entered  his  office  he  was  in  the  best 
of  humor,  which  led  me  to  surmise  that,  since  he  did 
not  mention  the  fact,  he  had  not  yet  heard  the  news  of 
the  action  of  the  Mitchell  convention.  This  made  the 
siuation  more  disagreeable  than  ever,  as  it  now  devolved 
upon  me  to  break  the  news  to  him,  and  to  be  a  witness 
of  the  explosion  which  was  sure  to  follow.  After  a 
few  minutes  I  said: 

"Have  you  heard  what  the  Mitchell  convention  has 
done,  Mr.  Scott?" 

"No,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  an  expression  of 
inquiry,  "what  has  it  done  now?" 

"Why,  it  passed  resolutions  endorsing  my  candidacy," 
I  said,  expecting  the  worst. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  the  utmost  calmness,  "you  want 
all  the  support  you  can  get — anybody  does,  always."  It 
was  one  of  Mr.  Scott's  good  days. 

Mr.  Scott  was  a  very  vigorous  man  physicall3^  as 
well  as  mentally,  and  was  in  robust  health  until  an  un- 
expected complication  appeared  in  the  early  part  of 
1910.  In  August  of  that  year,  accompanied  by  his 
family,  he  went  to  Baltimore  for  a  consultation  with  an 
eminent  specialist,  but  was  unable  to  rally  from  the 
effects  of  an  operation  and  died  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
August  7.  In  his  honor  memorial  services  were  held 
at  Pacific  University.  Forest  Grove,  on  September  29. 
In  closing  my  estimate  of  this  truly  great  man  I  cannot 
do  better  than  to  incorporate  here  the  following  address, 
delivered  by  me  on  that  occasion : 

At  the  close  of  Mr.  Scott's  life  it  could  have  been 
truly  said  that  he  had  filled  a  larger  place  in  the  history 
of  the  State  of  Oregon  than  had  any  other  man — and 
this  is  in  itself  a  wonderful  tribute  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  Oregon  has  had  its  full  share  of  men  who 
have  won  their  way  to  an  eminent  place  in  the  annals 
of  the  nation.  But  Mr.  Scott's  life-work  was  in  an 
entirely  different  channel  from  that  of  his  contem- 
poraries, and  comparisons  of  relative  merit  or  intel- 
lectual powers  are,  therefore,  impossible.    It  has  been 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  467 

well  said  by  some  one  that  he  graduated  from  this 
institution  in  a  class  by  himself  and  remained  in  that 
class  during  his  entire  career. 

In  approaching  the  duty  of  saying  a  few  words  as  to 
Mr.  Scott's  work  and  his  characteristics,  tempera- 
mentally, I  find  myself  confronted  by  the  impression 
that  he  was  a  man  most  difficult  to  analyze,  though  this 
is  made  much  easier  when  it  is  accompanied  by  the  re- 
flection that  his  work  was  of  such  nature  that  it  in 
large  measure  prevented  his  association  with  his 
fellows.  The  performance  of  the  stupendous  ends 
he  accomplished  week  in  and  week  out,  not  only  for 
a  decade  but  for  nearly  fifty  years,  never  permitted 
any  loitering  or  other  waste  of  time.  And  beyond  this 
was  the  necessary  preparation  which  supplied  the 
foundation  for  the  intellectual  battles  he  waged  all 
this  time  in  a  manner  which,  whatever  else  may  have 
been  said  by  his  adversaries,  never  failed  for  want  of 
dynamic  force  nor  revealed  any  lack  of  familiarity 
with  the  essential  facts.  And  this  concession  was  al- 
ways made  by  his  opponents. 

To  those  who  take  the  time  fairly  to  study  Mr. 
Scott's  life-work,  therefore,  the  reason  for  his  apparent 
moroseness  or  lack  of  affability  is  easily  understood. 
The  wonder  is  that  he  could  find  sufficient  time  during 
his  waking  hours  to  qualify  himself  for  the  duties 
he  undertook  and  which  he  performed  with  such 
marked  ability.  He  was  never  unprepared,  and  his 
preparedness  meant  not  only  a  familiarity  with  the 
literature  of  the  day — newspaper,  magazine,  periodi- 
cal and  book — but  a  sustained  knowledge  of  ancient 
history  in  all  its  bearings  upon  modern  questions, 
political,  religious,  social  and  economic.  In  this  con- 
nection I  feel  disposed  to  say  that  I  believe  Mr.  Scott 
was  widely  con\-ersant  with  more  subjects  than  any 
other  man  who  has  taken  part  in  the  public  affairs  of 
Oregon,  and  this  will  probably  be  universally  con- 
ceded. Indeed,  the  boundaries  of  Oregon  might  be 
extended  to  include  the  nation  itself  without  bring- 
ing to  light  a  very  great  number  of  serious  com- 
petitors in  this  respect. 

And  all  this  is  not  to  be  wrought  by  the  idler  or 
the  man  who  is  prone  to  build  up  a   reputation  as 


468  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

a  "hail  fellow  well  met."  To  the  man  who  has  had 
to  do  with  a  daily  newspaper,  even  of  the  more  unpre- 
tentious sort,  the  value  of  time  down  to  hours  and 
minutes  is  understood  to  be  a  matter  of  vital  import- 
ance, and  there  are  many  times  each  day  when  the 
editor  has  not  a  moment  to  spare,  even  with  his  best 
friend,  from  the  duties  which  call  for  immediate  at- 
tention. At  such  a  time,  if  a  man  with  an  idle  hour 
on  his  hands  drops  in  for  a  chat  with  the  editor,  he 
is  likely  to  meet  with  a  reception  strikingly  lacking 
in  that  effusive  cordiality  which  he  thoughtlessly  and 
fondly  expected. 

In  other  words,  the  busy  editor  of  a  great  daily 
newspaper  is  necessarily  a  m.an  who  lives  much  to 
himself  and  gradually  becomes  the  companion  more 
of  books  and  exchanges  than  of  his  personal  friends 
and  acquaintances. 

I  belong  to  the  "Constant  Reader"  class  of  the 
Oregonian,  having  relied  upon  its  news  columns  for 
information  as  to  the  world's  doings  and  been  a  stu- 
dent of  its  editorial  department  for  more  than  forty- 
five  years.  I  remember  quite  well  when  Mr.  Scott 
became  connected  with  the  paper  and  the  marked  im- 
provement in  its  tone  which  people  generally  said 
was  noticeable.  Since  the  spring  of  1869,  now  forty- 
one  years  ago,  I  have  been  a  subscriber  in  my  own 
name  to  the  Oregonian,  though  at  that  time  I  was 
but  eighteen  years  of  age. 

Aside  from  his  family  and  his  immediate  asso- 
ciates and  co-workers,  I  knew  Mr.  Scott  as  well,  per- 
haps, as  did  almost  any  other  man,  and  I  desire  to 
bear  this  testimony  to  the  undoubted  fact  that  he 
was  in  great  measure  misunderstood  by  the  body  of 
the  people  of  Oregon,  to  whose  welfare,  material, 
moral  and  social,  he  devoted  the  best  years  of  his 
life.  He  never  traveled  over  the  State,  seldom 
visited  the  State  Fair,  for  instance;  rarely,  if  ever, 
paid  a  visit  to  the  smaller  towns ;  was  an  entire 
stranger  to  most  of  its  interesting  localities  ofif  the 
main  line  of  its  railroads — and  for  these  reasons  was 
not  well  known  personally  to  many  of  its  people.  And 
yet,  for  all  this,  he  was  in  close  communication  with 
a  greater  number  of  the  citizens  of  Oregon  every  dav 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  469 

in  the  year  for  half  a  century,  and  upon  a  greater 
variety  of  subjects  in  which  they  were  vitally  in- 
terested, than  any  other  twenty-tive  men  whom  the 
State  has  produced  during  that  time. 

Mr.  Scott's  aggressiveness  was  proverbial,  for  he 
was  in  no  wise  a  "mollycoddle."  Upon  all  questions 
of  general  concern  his  opinions  were  firm  and  his  ex- 
pression of  them  was  always  outspoken.  During  the 
many  bitter  contests  that  have  been  waged  in  this 
State  during  the  past  forty  years  Mr.  Scott  was  al- 
ways on  the  firing  line,  and  the  files  of  the  Oregonian 
during  that  time  bear  eloquent  witness  to  his  magnifi- 
cent fighting  qualities,  and  usually  to  his  superior  gen- 
eralship. On  the  greater  questions  of  national  import 
he  was  able,  by  reason  of  his  comprehension  of  under- 
lying principles,  as  established  by  the  experience  of 
mankind,  to  take  the  right  side  and  his  greater  claim 
to  fame  rests  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  a  deep  thinker 
and  a  ripe  scholar.  He  Vv'as  not  to  hz  moved  from  safe 
ground,  as  proven  by  the  experience  and  experiments 
of  other  people,  by  the  clamor  of  the  hour  or  the 
mouthings  of  the  demagogue.  Here  is  where  Mr. 
Scott  stood  as  a  mighty  sentinel  for  the  people's  good, 
and  though  for  a  time  he  might  stand  alone,  he  never 
swerved  from  an  unquestioned  loyalty  to  his  convic- 
tions. This  marked  him  as  a  great  man  among  his 
compeers  and  both  created  and  sustained  his  repu- 
tation— wide  as  the  nation — as  one  of  the  few  great 
editors  of   his  generation. 

In  this  connection  it  should  be  said  that  in  the 
successful  career  which  Mr.  Scott  made  for  himself 
during  fifty  years  of  persistent  endeavor  he  was 
very  fortunate  in  his  environments,  for  at  the  time 
of  his  graduation,  and  when  he  was  in  search  of  a 
vocation,  Portland,  then  in  its  infancy,  was  just  be- 
ginning to  attract  attention  as  the  coming  chief  city 
of  the  Northwest,  and  the  Oregonian  was  taking  its 
place  as  probably  the  leading  newspaper  of  the  new 
country.  To  this  should  be  added  the  other  favorable 
circumstance  that  the  paper  w'as  directed  then  and 
ever  since  by  a  business  man  of  unusual  sagacity : 
it  lacked  only  a  man  well  qualified  as  an  able  and 
vigorous  editorial   writer.     A   great  emergency,   if   it 


470  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

may  be  properly  termed  such,  was  calling  for  a  man 
fully  prepared  to  accomplish  great  things  and  Mr. 
Scott,  wlio  was  but  little  past  his  majority  and  not 
yet  fully  settled,  appeared  as  the  right  man  at  the 
right  place  at  the  right  time.  Twenty  years  later, 
or  ten,  or  at  any  time  since  this  would  not  have  been 
possible,  but  it  must  be  said  of  Mr.  Scott  that  he  fully 
met  the  requirements  of  the  situation  then  and  signally 
filled  the  succeeding  demands  of  a  great  business 
as  it  reached  out  into  every  section  of  the  Northwest. 

I'^om  personal  conversations  with  him  I  know  that 
at  times  Mr.  Scott  felt,  tliat,  in  a  sense,  his  would  have 
been  a  greater  fame  had  his  lot  been  cast  in  one  of 
the  larger  Eastern  cities,  since  he  realized  through 
the  restricted  opportunities  presented  in  a  sparsely 
populated  section  of  the  country  his  efforts  through  a 
half-century  of  persistent  application  would  have  been 
better  appreciated  had  his  field  included  millions  of  the 
people  instead  of  thousands.  Nevertheless,  his  attach- 
ment to  the  "Oregon  Country"  was  deep  as  its  lovely 
rivers,  high  as  its  majestic  mountains  and  broad  as 
its  fertile  plains.  He  was  distinctly  loyal  to  its 
every  interest,  had  an  abiding  faith  in  its  great  future 
and  felt  an  unbounded  admiration  for  the  pioneer  men 
and  women  who  wrested  it  from  the  savages  and  who 
did  so  much  toward  transforming  it  into  the  magni- 
ficent commonwealth  which  it  is  to-day. 

Considering  the  great  work  he  was  doing  for  the 
material  and  moral  uplift  of  the  people  of  the  North- 
west, and  that  he  had  at  his  disposal  one  of  the  best 
new'spapers  of  the  United  States  as  a  vehicle  for 
reaching  them  every  day,  Mr.  Scott's  death  may  be 
regarded  as  the  deepest  affliction  which  the  King 
of  Shadows  has  wrought  upon  them,  as  a  whole,  since 
the  days  of  the  intrepid  Whitman  and  the  generous 
McLoughlin.  In  the  very  nature  of  things  no  one  man 
will  ever  take  his  place,  for  the  position  he  filled  in 
Oregon  journalism  will  never  be  open  to  another. 
There  are  thousands  of  native  Oregonians  of  my  age, 
or  near  it,  who  cannot  remember  anything  of  im- 
portance relating  to  the  history  of  the  state  in  which 
Harvey  W.  Scott  was  not  an  active  character  on  the 
public    stage    and    an    influential    moulder   of   public 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  471 

opinion.  To  us,  especially,  his  death  leaves  a  void 
which  seems  ever  present,  as  the  removal  of  a  prin- 
cipal figure  in  a  cherished  landscape  materially  alters 
and  apparently  dwarfs  every  other  feature  which  has 
hitherto  seemed  of  transcendent  heauty. 

The  name  of  Harvey  W.  Scott  is  writ  large  in  the 
history  of  the  State  he  did  so  much  to  exploit,  and 
after  life's  fitful  fever  he  has  passed  on  to  the  land  of 
the  Great  Unknown.  He  came  from  the  common 
people,  was  the  product  of  early  self-denial  and  per- 
sistent industry,  was  an  exponent  of  the  simple  Hfe, 
which  he  illustrated  in  his  daily  methods  of  living, 
hated  cant  and  mere  pretense,  was  a  great  student,  was 
a  most  genial  companion  when  the  demands  of  duty 
would  permit  it,  conducted  a  great  newspaper  which 
was  kept  comparatively  free  from  those  things  which 
should  not  be  read  in  the  home,  and,  better  than  these, 
he  was  a  kind  father  and  a  devoted  husband.  More 
than  this  can  rarely  be  said  of  any  man. 

In  many  respects  the  career  of  John  H.  Mitchell  has 
not  been  duplicated  by  that  of  any  other  public  man  in 
the  history  of  the  United  States.  He  was  a  candidate 
for  the  United  States  Senate  in  1866  and  was  defeated 
by  the  narrowest  margin;  was  again  a  candidate  in  1872, 
and  elected;  was  retired  at  the  end  of  his  term  in  1878; 
was  again  a  candidate  in  1882,  but  defeated;  was  again 
elected  in  1885  by  the  aid  of  Democratic  votes;  was  re- 
elected in  1 89 1  without  opposition  in  his  party — for  the 
first  time:  was  defeated  in  1897  by  his  enemies  who  pre- 
vented the  organization  of  the  Legislature  with  that  end 
in  view;  was  again  elected  in  1901  and  in  the  middle  of 
his  term  was  indicted  in  the  Federal  courts  for  complicity 
in  land  frauds  against  the  Government,  was  tried,  con- 
victed and  sentenced  to  pay  a  heavy  fine  and  to  a  term  of 
imprisonment,  the  latter  of  which  he  escaped  only  by  the 
interposition  of  the  King  of  Shadows. 

Yet,  there  is  no  doubt  that,  if  the  matter  could  have 
been  left  to  a  popular  vote  of  the  people  of  Oregon  after 
the  verdict  had  been  rendered,  they  would  have  given 
him  an  overwhelming  endorsement  and  a  ringing  exon- 


472  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

eration  from  all  blame,  for  there  is  a  general  belief  among 
the  people  he  served  so  long  and  faithfully  that  he  was 
literally  "hounded  to  his  grave"  on  the  thinnest  of  tech- 
nicalities. 

Kind  hearted  to  a  fault,  he  had  at  all  times  left  nothing 
undone  for  his  constituents  that  was  within  his  power  to 
accomplish  and,  especially,  was  due  to  him,  more  than  to 
any  other  dozen  men,  the  National  aid  to  the  Lewis  and 
Clark  Exposition  in  Portland  in  1905,  the  result  of  which, 
as  a  means  of  advertising  the  great  resources  of  Oregon, 
has  been  worth  more  in  the  material  advancement  of  the 
State  than  all  that  had  preceded  it  since  the  first  settle- 
ment of  the  Northwest.  Concerning  this  latter  public 
service,  Harvey  W.  Scott,  his  lifelong  political  enemy, 
wrote  him  the  following  letter  on  November  28,  1903, 
Mr.  Scott  being  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Directors 
of  the  Centennial  Exposition  : 

Hon.  John  H.  Mitchell,  United  States  Senate,  Wash- 
ing 1 071,  D.  C. 

My  Dear  Sir:  On  behalf  of  the  Board  of  Dii-ectors 
of  the  Lewis  and  Clark  Centennial  Exposition  I  desire 
to  extend  to  you  our  thanks  for  the  earnest  and  effi- 
cient service  you  are  rendering  in  bringing  the  claims 
of  this  Exposition  forward  for  National  recognition. 
It  is  impossible  to  imagine  better  work  than  you  are 
doing  in  securing  for  this  great  undertaking  the  con- 
siderate attention  of  Congress  and  of  the  country. 

Such  service,  moreover,  is  appreciated  by  the  whole 
people  of  Oregon  and  of  the  entire  Northwest.  Wish- 
ing for  you  continued  health  and  success  in  all  your 
work,  I   am, 

Yours  very  truly, 

H.  W.  Scott. 

A  short  time  after  the  death  of  Senator  Mitchell  the 
State  Bar  Association  held  a  meeting  in  Portland  in 
honor  of  his  memory,  at  which  the  principal  speaker  was 
Hon.  George  H.  Williams,  Oregon's  "grand  old  man," 
during  the  course  of  which  he  gave  this  estimate  of  the 
dead  Senator's  work  and  characteristics : 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  473 

"He  represented  every  locality,  every  interest  and  every 
party  in  the  State.  Whenever  a  citizen  of  the  State 
wrote  him  a  letter  he  was  sure  of  an  answer,  and  when- 
ever an  Oregonian  went  to  Washington  while  he  was 
there  he  was  sure  of  kindness  and  civilities  from  the  Sen- 
ator. He  deserves  to  be  remembered  particularly  for  his 
efforts  in  behalf  of  the  Lewis  and  Clark  Centennial.  He 
knew  how  to  do  things  in  Washington.  He  gave  a 
banquet  to  which  he  invited  a  number  of  influential  con- 
gressmen and  there,  between  the  sherry  and  the  cham- 
pagne, he  had  them  pledged  to  vote  for  an  appropriation 
for  the  Fair.  I  was  talking  with  a  lady  the  other  day 
who  said  the  Senator  had  visited  her  house  and,  while 
conversing  about  public  affairs,  referred  to  his  work  for 
the  Lewis  and  Clark  Fair.  'And  now,'  said  he,  *my 
right  to  visit  the  grounds  is  hardly  recognized,'  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  made  the  remark.  I  have  been 
classed  as  a  Mitchell  man  in  the  foolish  differences  in  the 
Republican  party,  and  will  say  here  that  I  have  been 
favorable  to  his  election  because,  in  my  judgment,  with 
his  influence,  experience  and  standing  in  the  Senate  he 
could  do  more  for  Oregon  than  any  other  man  who  could 
be  elected." 

Of  the  charge  upon  which  Mitchell  was  tried  and  con- 
victed. General  Williams  said : 

"What  I  want  to  say  is  that  there  was  no  moral  turpi- 
tude in  what  he  did.  He  injured  no  one,  he  wronged  no 
one.  His  employer  willingly  paid  him  for  his  labor. 
Everybody  who  knew  Senator  Mitchell  knows 
that  in  thousands  of  cases  he  has  rendered  similar  or 
greater  services  for  individuals  in  the  departments  with- 
out any  compensation  therefor.  Such  was  his  common 
practice.  In  this  particular  instance  he  appears  to  have 
received  fees,  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  he  would  have 
rendered  the  same  service  upon  request  if  no  fees  had 
been  paid.  .  .  .  Senator  Mitchell  had  a  right  to  go 
to  the  departments  to  urge  the  issuing  of  patents  for  any 
other  lawful  purpose,  and,  so  far  as  his  influence  with  the 
department?    was    concerned,     it    made    no    difference 


474  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

whether  he  rendered  his  services  gratuitously  or  not.    He 
committed  an  error  and  not  a  crime. 

"Senator  Mitchell  is  now  beyond  the  praise  of  friends 
or  the  malice  of  enemies.  When  the  winter  comes  the 
flowers  of  summer  fade,  the  leaves  fall  to  the  ground, 
the  storm-clouds  gather  and  there  is  gloom  instead  of 
sunshine,  and  so  with  Senator  Mitchell;  he  has  passed 
into  the  winter  of  life.  All  the  summer  flowers  of  his 
career  had  faded — the  joyous  fruits  of  his  labor  had  per- 
ished— a  storm-cloud  gathered  over  his  head  and  in  its 
shadow  he  laid  down  and  peacefully  passed  to  where 
winter  and  storm  can  never  disturb  the  serenity  of  God's 
eternal  years.  Senator  Mitchell  sleeps  in  the  bosom  of 
the  State  in  which  he  lived  so  long  and  served  so  well, 
and  if  I  were  to  erect  a  tombstone  at  the  head  of  his 
grave.  I  would  have  no  inscription  on  it  but  the  name, 
'John  H.  Mitchell,'  and,  underneath,  in  large  and  lasting 
letters,  that  beautiful,  comforting  and  consoling  word, 
'Rest.' " 

Senator  Mitchell  died  on  the  9th  of  December,  1905, 
five  days  before  which  event  he  had  written  a  letter  to  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  J.  P.  Fawcett,  in  Canton,  Ohio,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  said : 

"My  health  is  far  from  robust,  the  terrible  strain 
through  which  I  have  passed  during  the  last  year  is  fast 
telling  upon  me,  and  I  feel  that  I  cannot  stand  it  much 
longer.  Oh.  God !  how  I  have  wished  many  and  many  a 
time  that  I  might  have  died  before  this  disgrace  came 
upon  me,  my  children  and  my  Sfafc.  I  have  this  one 
consolation,  that  notwithstanding  the  verdict  of  the  jury, 
I  am  absolutely  an  innocent  man." 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Bar  Association,  Judge  William 
D.  Fenton  said : 

"Had  Senator  Mitchell  remained  at  the  bar  and  de- 
voted the  time  to  himself  and  his  family  that  he  did  to 
the  people  of  Oregon  and  to  his  country  in  general,  he 
would  have  been  worth  a  million  instead  of  a  paltry 
estate  of  $3,000.  against  which  are  debts  am.ounting  to 
$io,ODO.     This  man  sacrificed  his  life  in  the  serv-ice  of 


J  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  475 

the  State.  He  measured  up  to  the  standard  of  public 
usefuhiess." 

The  feeling  at  the  time  of  Senator  Mitchell's  trial  was 
that  he  was  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  that 
through  the  promptings  of  a  generous  heart  he  merely 
did  that  for  pay  in  a  few  instances  which  he  did  thou- 
sands of  times  without  thought  of  remuneration,  and 
that  a  useful  public  servant  was  sacrificed  on  the  rising 
but  ephemeral  tide  of  "Muckrakism."  If  living  to-day, 
in  the  face  of  all  that  was  proven,  though,  indeed,  he 
committed  some  errors,  and  did  some  foolish  things  as 
his  troubles  were  approaching  which  operated  against 
him  during  his  trial,  it  would  doubtless  be  a  safe  wager 
that  few  men,  if  any,  could  poll  a  higher  popular  vote 
for  United  States  Senator  than  Hon.  John  H.  Mitchell. 

During  the  last  days  of  Senator  Mitchell's  life  he  had 
no  more  devoted  friend  than  Col.  David  M.  Dunne, 
United  States  Collector  of  Internal  Revenue,  who,  within 
a  few  weeks  will  begin  a  campaign  for  dollar  subscrip- 
tions for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  ten  thousand  dollar 
monument  to  the  memory  of  Oregon's  Senator  who  for 
a  full  generation  stood  so  close  to  the  hearts  of  the 
common  people. 

After  thirty  years  of  acrimonious  warfare,  Harvey  W. 
Scott  and  John  H.  Mitchell,  intellectual  giants,  are  rest- 
ing beneath  the  sod  in  Riverside  Cemetery  which  over- 
looks the  beautiful  city  of  Portland,  free  from  that  strife 
that  was  theirs  almost  unceasingly  for  almost  a  full  half- 
century. 


CHAPTER  LXII 

There  had  been  so  niatiy  miscarriages  and  ''hold-ups" 
in  the  various  Senatorial  elections  in  Oregon  that  one 
may  not  wonder  at  the  conception  and  adoption  of  the 
"Oregon  System," — "Statement  No.  i,"  as  it  is  popu- 
larly called — by  which  members  of  the  Legislature  are 
required  to  pledge  themselves  to  vote  for  that  man  who 
has  previously  been  selected  by  the  people  as  their  choice 
for  United  States  Senator, — irrespective  of  the  political 
complexion  of  the  candidate  or  the  Legislature. 

In  1882  Dolph  was  elected  at  the  very  end  of  the  ses- 
sion, though  Mitchell  had  been  the  caucus  nominee  and 
voted  for  from  the  beginning.  In  1885  Hirsch  was  the 
caucus  nominee,  but  the  o])position  was  strong  enough 
to  defeat  him  and  there  was  an  adjournment  without  any 
election.  In  the  fall  of  the  year  Governor  Moody  called 
a  special  session  for  the  one  purpose  of  choosing  a 
Senator.  In  1889  Dolph  was  re-elected  on  the  first  ballot, 
as  was  Mitchell  two  years  later.  But  in  1895  there  was 
a  struggle  which  lasted  until  the  last  minute  of  the  ses- 
sion, when  McBride  was  elected,  and  in  1897  there  was 
no  organization  of  the  House  at  all,  in  order  to  prevent 
the  re-election  of  Mitchell. 

Governor  Lord  appointed  H.  W.  Corbett  to  fill  the 
vacancy  thus  made,  but  after  considering  the  matter  for 
several  months  the  Senate  decided  that,  since  the  Legis- 
lature had  been  in  session  and  had  failed  to  elect  a  Sen- 
ator, it  was  not  vvithin  the  power  of  the  Governor  to  fill 
such  a  vacancy.  As  a  result  of  that  decision  the  Gov- 
ernor called  a  special  session  in  October,  1898,  at  which 
time  Joseph  Simon  was  elected. 

The  deadlock  in  1901  has  just  been  described  and  its 
counterpart  was  had  two  years  later.  Thus,  out  of  seven 
elections  of  United  States  Senators,  five  of  them  re- 

476 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  477 

quired  the  entire  time  of  the  session — two  of  these  re- 
sulting in  no  election  at  all,  and  one  of  them  in  no 
organization  of  the  House,  with  no  legislation  on  any 
subject  whatexcr. 

It  is  a  disgraceful  record  and  furnishes  abundant  jus- 
tification for  the  change  which  the  people  of  the  State 
have  forced  until  such  time  as  the  Federal  Constitution 
may  be  amended  providing  for  the  popular  election  of 
United  States  Senators. 

The  contest  for  United  States  Senator  in  the  session 
of  1903  was  different  in  one  important  respect  from  its 
predecessors  in  the  line  of  deadlocks.  At  the  preceding 
session  there  had  been  passed  a  law  providing  for  a  popu- 
lar vote  on  Senators.  It  was  know^n  as  the  Mays  law, 
for  the  reason  that  it  had  been  introduced  by  Senator 
Pierce  Mays  and  was  fathered  by  those  known  as  Mitchell 
Republicans  for  the  purpose  of  forcing  Senator  Simon, 
whose  term  was  just  expiring,  to  a  popular  vote,  the 
assumption  being  that  on  account  of  the  charge  against 
him  of  being  a  political  "boss"  he  w^ould  not  fare  well  in 
a  popular  vote  and  that  his  defeat  w^ould  be  more  nearly 
assured  than  if  it  were  left  to  the  management  of  a 
T.egislature — where  he  w^as  as  nearly  "at  home"  as  any 
man  in  Oregon.  Simon  had  been  a  member  of  the  State 
Senate  for  nearly  twent}'-  years  and  had  been  its  president 
five  times,  occupying  that  position  when  elected  to  the 
United  States  Senate  in  i8g8. 

But  at  the  end  of  Simon's  term  conditions  were  such 
that  he  w'as  not  a  candidate  before  the  Legislature  for 
re-election  and  the  authors  of  the  Mays  law  had  no  use 
for  it.  In  the  meantime.  I  had  been  defeated  for  re- 
nomination  for  Governor  through  a  series  of  combina- 
tions by  the  friends  of  the  Mays  law  and  decided  to 
become  a  candidate  for  United  States  Senator  under  its 
provisions.  Frankly,  I  had  tw^o  purposes  in  this  political 
move — first,  to  become  a  United  States  Senator,  if  I 
could  secure  the  popular  vote,  and,  secondly,  to  show,  if 
I  could,  that  my  defeat  for  a  re-nomination  was  not 
endorsed  by  the  people  and  w^as  utterly  contrary  to  their 


478  FIFTY  YEARS  IX  OREGON 

wishes.     At  any  rate  this  was  my  purpose,  and  I  was 
wilHng  to  put  the  matter  to  a  popular  test. 

The  result  of  this  move  proved  that  I  had  not  mis- 
understood the  feeling  of  the  people,  but  that  I  was  mis- 
taken as  to  the  sincerity  of  the  men  who  had  passed  the 
Mays  law.  Many  of  them  were  still  in  the  Legislature, 
but  they  paid  no  attention  to  the  popular  vote  whatever, 
though  I  had  complied  with  every  legal  requirement.  I 
had  received  thirteen  thousand  more  votes  than  my 
Democratic  opponent,  C.  E.  S.  Wood,  who  himself  had 
received  a  larger  popular  vote  than  many  of  his  Demo- 
cratic colleagues  on  the  State  ticket. 

When  the  Legislature  met  in  January,  1903,  and  began 
voting  for  United  States  Senator,  Charles  \V.  Fulton 
was  the  leading  candidate  and  ultimately  won  the  elec- 
tion. It  was  known  that  he  would  be  a  candidate  early 
in  the  year,  and  as  he  was  a  supporter  of  the  Mays  law 
when  it  was  enacted,  it  was  my  purpose  to  force  him  to 
submit  the  question  to  a  popular  vote,  but  this  he  declined 
to  do,  preferring  to  trust  to  his  chance  of  controlling 
the  Legislature  in  the  old  way. 

The  Mays  law  was  discredited  in  the  house  of  its 
friends — it  was  emasculated  before  it  produced  any 
results.  It  was  held  to  be  a  mere  joke.  I  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  preceding  State  campaign,  preferring  to  allow 
the  popular  vote  to  be  cast  without  using  any  personal 
solicitation  for  support,  in  order  that  no  man  might  say 
I  was  unusuall)^  active,  or,  indeed,  active  at  all,  in  my 
own  behalf.  My  name  was  at  the  head  of  the  official 
ballot,  but  I  remained  at  home  and  made  no  speeches, 
wrote  no  letters — asked  no  help  in  any  direction. 

This  utter  indifference  to  the  popular  vote  for  United 
States  Senator  laid  the  foundation  for  the  direct  primary 
law,  the  direct  vote  for  Senators  after  the  method  known 
as  Statement  No.  i,  and,  indeed,  the  entire  "Oregon  Sys- 
tem," and  it  would  be  as  difficult  to  stem  successfully  the 
tides  of  the  ocean  as  to  secure  a  return  to  the  old  system 
in  Oregon.  To  be  sure,  it  has  its  imperfections  which 
are  patent  to  every  observer,  but  so  disgusted  are  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  479 

people  with  the  old  methods  that  they  look  with  suspicion 
upon  even  a  reasonable  proposition  for  improving  the 
new  order  of  things. 

Upon  the  last  day  of  the  balloting  the  name  of  H.  W. 
Scott  was  presented,  with  the  expectation  on  the  part  of 
some  of  my  supporters  that  he  would  draw  a  sufficient 
number  of  votes  from  Fulton  to  win  the  election ;  but  this 
was  soon  found  to  be  impossible,  and  just  as  the  hour 
for  adjournment  had  arrived  a  stampede  for  Fulton  was 
effected,  as  had  been  the  time-honored  custom  in  Oregon, 
"to  save  tlxj  good  name  of  the  State"  and  that  "you 
may  not  go  home  to  your  constituents  without  having 
elected  a  Senator."  The  old  plan  worked  once  again — 
but  for  the  last  time. 

Charles  W.  Fulton,  the  successful  candidate  for  Sen- 
ator, was  born  in  Ohio  in  1853,  but  moved  to  Iowa  when 
a  youngster,  afterward  to  Nebraska,  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  in  that  State  and  came  to  Oregon  in  1876  to 
grow^  up  whh  the  country.  He  came  at  once  to  Portland 
and  applied  for  a  position  in  a  lawyer's  office.  Having 
failed  in  his  first  attempt,  he  went  to  another,  but  with 
the  same  result.  He  then  went,  in  turn,  to  every  lawyer's 
office  in  the  city  and  found  them  all  "full."  As  he 
arrived  in  Portland  with  but  ten  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
he  began  at  this  juncture  to  take  a  serious  view  of  the 
situation.  Finallv  concluding  that,  as  he  had  been  reared 
on  a  farm,  he  could  handle  horses  as  well  as  anybody, 
he  tried  to  get  employment  in  a  livery  stable,  but  the 
stables  were  all  supplied  with  an  abundance  of  help. 
There  was  not  a  vacancy  anywhere. 

At  this  point  he  walked  up  the  river  one  morning  past 
the  old  "White  House,"  with  no  definite  purpose  in  view- 
other  than  to  find  something  to  do — anything.  Just  out 
of  town  he  came  across  three  men  cutting  cord  wood  on 
the  bank  of  the  river,  and  he  thought  that  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  w^orst — and  it  had  about  arrived  at  that 
point  that  morning — he  would  try  his  hand  at  the  end 
of  a  maul,  with  a  wedee  attachment.     Here  he  remem- 


48o  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

bered,  however,  that  when  at  home  with  his  four  brothers 
the  one  thing  he  disHked  above  all  others  was  chopping 
wood.  He  had  often  traded  with  the  boys  at  chore  time 
and  agreed  to  do  everything  else  if  they  would  "get  in" 
the  wood.     So  he  "passed  up''  that  prospect. 

Upon  returning  to  town  he  met  a  lawyer  who  told  him 
that  George  R.  Helm,  of  Albany,  was  a  young  man  of 
great  promise,  a  popular  politician  and  had  no  partner — 
perhaps  he  could  get  a  foothold  with  him.  This  looked 
and  sounded  good  to  Fulton,  but  that  morning  he  had 
but  twenty  cents  in  his  pocket  and  couldn't  well  get  to 
Albany  or  anywhere  else.  But  he  decided  that  he  must 
see  Helm,  so  he  sold  an  old  silver  watch  his  father  had 
given  him  years  before  for  three  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents  and  went  by  boat  to  Albany. 

There  was  a  "rate  war"  on  at  the  time  between  the 
Willamette  River  boats  and  the  fare  was  but  fifty  cents 
to  Albany,  so  Fulton  went  there  in  search  of  his  fortune; 
but  Helm  w-as  in  ill  health  and  did  not  want  any  partner 
or  even  an  assistant.  He  then  called  upon  J.  K.  Weather- 
ford  who  had  just  been  elected  superintendent  of  county 
schools,  and  Weatherford  did  not  want  any  help  in  his 
office — he  was  an  attorney,  also — but  he  said  the  directors 
of  the  Waterloo  district,  up  on  the  Santiam,  wanted  a 
teacher  and  that  if  he  could  teach  school  he  might  get 
the  job. 

Fulton  replied  that  he  had  never  taught  school  but 
that  he  thought  he  could  get  a  third-grade  certificate — in 
fact,  he'd  have  to.  Accordingly,  he  walked  to  the 
Waterloo  district,  twenty  miles  away  in  the  foothills  of 
the  Cascades,  saw  the  directors  and  secured  the  school. 
He  walked  back  to  Albany  the  next  day.  obtained  his 
certificate,  for  which  he  paid  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents, 
and  returned  to  Waterloo — on  foot.  His  salary  was 
forty  dollars  a  month  and  "found."  that  is.  he  boarded 
around  with  the  pupils.  At  the  entl  of  the  three  months' 
term  he  was  worth  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  in 
money. 

With  this  capital  he  went  to  Astoria  and  opened  a  law 


1«TFTY  YKARS  IN  ORKGON  481 

office.  Business,  however,  was  slow  in  coming  his  way 
and  the  records  in  the  county  clerk's  office  will  to-day 
show  thousands  of  pages  copied  in  Fulton's  handwriting 
— work  done  in  order  that  his  income  might  cover  his 
office  rent  and  other  "necessaries  of  life." 

In  conversation  with  Fulton  this  summer  I  asked  him 
his  reason  for  locating  in  Astoria  instead  of  Portland, 
where  he  removed  a  year  ago.  His  reply  was  that,  in 
common  with  thousands  of  others  at  that  time,  he 
thought  the  coming  city  of  the  Northwest  w-ould,  of 
course,  eventually  be  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia 
River,  and  he  went  there  in  order  "to  be  on  the  ground 
floor  and  grow  up  with  the  city." 

In  1878  Fulton  was  elected  to  the  State  Senate  from 
Clatsop  County  and  served  for  four  years.  He  did  not 
again  appear  in  public  life  until  his  election  to  the  Senate 
in  1890,  when  he  served  another  four  years.  He  was 
again  elected  in  1898  and  a  fourth  time  in  1902.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  State  Senate  at  the  time  of  his 
election  to  the  United  States  Senate  and  v/as  president 
of  that  body  in  the  sessions  of  1893  and  1901. 

I  first  met  Mr.  Fulton  in  the  session  of  1880  when  I 
was  a  member  of  the  House  and  he  of  the  Senate.  Since 
that  time  we  have  always  been  warm  personal  friends, 
though  often  arrayed  against  each  other  in  political  war- 
fare. He  is  a  man  of  generous  impulses,  always  loyal  to 
his  friends,  and  was  for  thirty  years  an  unswerving 
disciple  of  John  H.  Mitchell,  whose  colleague  he  was 
at  the  time  of  the  latter's  death.  Since  his  entrance  into 
the  State  vSenate  in  1878  he  has  been  an  active  force  in 
Oregon  politics,  as  the  preceding  resume  will  show^  but 
met  his  first  decisive  defeat  when,  upon  the  expiration 
of  his  term  in  the  United  States  Senate,  he  ran  afoul  of 
the  "Oregon  vSystem"  and  w^as  retired. 

Mr.  Fulton  was  a  candidate  for  the  nomination  for 
Governor  in  the  Republican  State  Convention  in  1894, 
but  after  a  warmly  contested  campaign  was  defeated  by 
Judge  W.  P.  Lord.  In  the  senatorial  deadlock  in  1895. 
when  Dolph  was  defeated  for  re-election,  Tnilton  was  the 


482  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

candidate  voted  for  several  times  by  the  opposition,  but 
without  success.  Several  of  his  earlier  aspirations  were 
frostbitten — as  were  some  of  mine — and  he  was  con- 
soled by  those  who  failed  to  be  impressed  properly  by  his 
claims — as  I  was — by  the  assurance  that  he  "was  young 
yet" — that  his  time  would  come  later.  This  sop  after 
awhile  ceased  to  heal,  even  partially,  the  wounds  inflicted 
on  our  pride  and  to  us  became  a  very  tiresome  joke. 
After  Fulton's  defeat  for  the  nomination  for  Governor, 
in  1894,  I  wrote  him  a  letter  of  consolation — endeavored 
to  cheer  him  up  with  the  assurance  that  he  "was  young 
yet,"  and  must  not  expect  too  much  until  everybody  else 
who  wanted  good  jniblic  positions  had  died  of  old  age. 
etc. 

To  this  letter  he  responded  very  kindly,  saying  that 
other  people  perhaps  understood  such  things  better  than 
he  did,  but  that  he  would  feel  a  d —  sight  better  if  they 
would  express  themselves  honestly  and  say  in  plain 
English  that  he  was  incompetent  or  dishonest  or  thor- 
oughly undeserving.  "But."  he  concluded,  "here  I  have 
been  in  the  State  Senate  for  eight  years,  was  president 
of  that  body  one  session,  have  stumped  the  State  several 
times  and  am  getting  gray-haired,  stoop-shouldered  and 
wear  glasses — and  now  to  be  regarded  as  a  political  ever- 
green at  my  time  of  life  would  make  a  man  prematurely 
old  where  evervthing  else  would  fail.  However,  there 
is  a  whole  lot  of  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  you  are 
as  young  as  I  am.     May  you  remain  so." 

In  talking  over  his  early  experiences  in  Oregon.  Fulton 
said  that  when  he  hadn't  a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  couldn't 
get  any  kind  of  employment  and  didn't  have  an  acquain- 
tance on  the  Pacific  Coast,  even  that  morning  when  he 
saw  the  three  men  cutting  cordwood  along  the  river 
south  of  Portland,  after  he  had  been  turned  down  by 
all  the  livery  stables  in  town,  he  was  not  at  any  time 
especially  anxious,  as  he  remembers  it  now,  for  he  was 
young  and  strong,  in  good  health,  and  had  no  fear  of 
starvation  or  even  of  want.  "Such  powerful  assets," 
he  said,  "are  youth  and  good  health  !     T  had  worked  all 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  483 

my  boyhood  on  a  farm  and  I  guess  I  must  have  thought 
that  no  man  has  a  surer  grip  on  a  living  than  a  farm- 
hand— grub  and  clothes.  Rockefeller  doesn't  get  any 
more  than  that  out  of  his  millions,  that  I  have  ever  heard 
of,  does  he?  No.  I  have  had  a  thousand  times  more 
real  worry  over  some  dirty  campaign  lie  than  I  had  then 
with  no  money,  no  friends  and  no  job.  You  see.  I  was 
young  then,  and  nothing  can  permanently  down  a  young 
man  with  good  health — not  if  he  wants  to  stay  up!" 


CHAPTER  LXIII 

The  death  of  Thomas  II.  Tongue  in  1902,  member  of 
Congress  from  the  First  Oregon  District,  was  a  loss  to 
the  public  service  which  was  keenly  felt  at  the  time  and 
is  still  recognized.  He  was  born  in  England,  but  when 
a  small  boy  came  to  Oregon  with  his  parents  and  settled 
in  Washington  County.  After  arriving  at  the  age  of 
manhood  he  became  a  farmer,  devoting  his  attention 
largely  to  the  raising  of  blooded  horses.  He  was  also 
admitted  to  the  bar  and  for  many  years  before  entering 
Congress  vvas  recognized  as  one  of  the  leading  lawyers 
of  the  State.  He  succeeded  Binger  Hermann  in  Con- 
gress in  1897.  remaining  there  by  successive  elections 
without  opposition  until  his  death. 

Mr.  Tongue  was  one  of  the  best  public  speakers  in 
Oregon,  aggressive,  ready,  forceful  and  witty.  He  was 
elected  to  the  State  Senate  in  1S88,  serving  in  that  body 
wnth  distinction  for  four  years.  He  was  always  a  promi- 
nent figure  at  gatherings  of  Republicans  and  twice  was 
president  of  the  Republican  State  Convention. 

Mr.  Tongue  was  noted  for  his  illegible  handwriting, 
and  it  was  a  standing  joke  among  his  friends.  He 
gave  thanks  to  the  man  who  first  invented  a  typewriter 
and  often  remarked  that  his  friends  were  more  thankful 
than  he  was.  T  recall  that,  one  year,  he  wrote  a  letter 
descriptive  of  Washington  County  for  the  New  Year's 
edition  of  the  Orcrjonian,  to  Avhich  his  signature  was 
attached  in  fac  simile,  as  were  those  of  the  writers  of 
articles  descriptive  of  the  other  counties.  Mv  paper 
came  to  me  during  the  holidays,  while  two  Salem  teachers 
in  the  public  schools  were  visiting  at  the  farm.  Upon 
its  receipt  I  discovered  Tongue's  letter,  and  his  signature 
looked  so  much  more  like  an}i:hing  else  one  might 
imagine  that  I  called  the  two  teachers  and  asked  them 

484 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  +85 

if  they  could  decipher  it.  They,  with  my  two  daughters, 
looked  over  my  shoulder,  as  I  sat  in  my  chair,  and 
guessed  almost  every  other  name  under  the  sun  except 
that  of  Tongue. 

The  next  day  I  wrote  to  Tongue  the  following  letter : 

Macleay,  Oregon,  Jan.  2. 
Hon.  Thos.  H.  Tongue, 

Hillsboro,  Or. 
My  Dear  Tongue: 

The  New  Year's  Oregonian,  just  received,  con- 
tains an  article  descriptive  of  the  resources  of  Wash- 
ington County,  which  is  so  very  admirable  that  I  should 
like  to  know  the  name  of  its  author.  His  name  is  at- 
tached to  it,  to  be  sure,  but  it  is  printed  in  fac- 
simile and  I  cannot  make  it  out.  In  fact,  there  are 
two  school-ma'ams  visiting  at  my  home  this  week, 
and  as  I  sat  in  my  chair  they  came  and,  looking  over 
my  shoulder,  failed  utterly  to  decipher  the  signature. 

Knowing  that  you  are  well  acquainted  in  Washing- 
ton County,  it  occurred  to  me  to  write  you  and  make 
an  effort  to  ascertain  the  author  of  the  very  excellent 
article,  for  I  should  like  to  compliment  him  on  his 
splendid  and  thorough  treatment  of  his  subject. 
Yours  sincerely,  etc. 

Within  a  week  I  received  the  following  letter,  to  appre- 
ciate which  it  is  necessary  to  say  that  my  own  hand- 
writing was  little,  if  any,  better  than  Tongue's,  and  that 
in  order  to  retain  the  respect  of  my  friends  T  purchased 
one  of  the  first  typewriters  that  came  from  the  factory: 

Hillsboro,  Or.,  Jan.  10. 
Hon.  T.  T.  Geer, 

Macleay,  Or. 
Friend  Geer: 

I  am  after  information.  I  received  a  letter  a  day 
or  two  ago  written  in  such  a  wretched  hand  that  I  can- 
not make  out  who  it  is  from,  and  1  write  to  you,  for 
the  reason  that  the  envelope  has  the  postmark 
"Macleay"  on  it  and,  so  far  as  T  recall,  you  are  the 
only  person  li^■ing  there  whom  I  know.     I  wish  you 


486  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

would  make  some  inquii*}''  about  the  matter,  for  the 
poor  devil  may  want  to  know  something  of  import- 
ance that  I  can  tell  him.  The  only  thing  I  am  sure 
about  is  that  the  letter  came  from  Macleay  and  that 
its  author  w^as  sitting  between  two  school-ma'ams 
when  he  wrote  it. 

Very   truly  yours, 

Thos.  H.  Tongue. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1902.  Mr.  Tongue  joined  a 
party  of  about  twenty-five  people  who  visited  Crater 
Lake,  in  Klamath  County — which,  by  the  way,  is  one 
of  the  greatest  natural  wonders  on  the  globe,  being  a 
sunken  body  of  water  on  the  very  summit  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains,  six  miles  across,  the  surface  of  the  water  tw^o 
thousand  feet  below  the  surrounding  country.  Teams 
and  automobiles  are  driven  to  the  verge  of  these  bluffs, 
from  which  point  one  of  the  grandest  scenes  afforded 
in  all  the  handiwork  of  Nature  is  presented  to  the 
beholder.  These  tremendous  walls  are  almost  perpen- 
dicular and  the  water's  edge  is  accessible  in  one  place 
only  in  all  their  vast  extent. 

Official  soundings  have  been  made  by  the  government 
to  ascertain  the  depth  of  this  body  of  water,  and  it  was 
found  that  the  average  is  about  fifteen  hundred  feet, 
though  several  measurements  showed  a  depth  of  two 
thousand  feet.  On  one  side  of  this  lake  is  a  cone-shaped 
island  composed  of  burnt  shell  lava  whose  summit  is 
eight  hundred  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water — all 
of  which  gives  an  abundant  field  for  speculation  as  to  its 
origin.  Undoubtedly,  however,  there  once  stood  vv'here 
this  lake  now  lies  a  huge  mountain,  probably  similar  to 
Mt.  Hood,  which  was  blown  to  atoms  in  some  convulsion 
of  Nature  in  distant  ages,  leaving  its  summit  to  settle  into 
the  vast  chasm  thus  created.  This  afterward  filled  with 
water,  at  least  to  within  two  thousand  feet  of  the  surface. 
and,  finding  some  subterranean  outlet,  remained  at  that 
stage — for  Crater  Lake  has  neither  an  inlet  nor  outlet 
that  is  visible. 

One  of  the  most  singular  and  beautiful   features  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  487 

Crater  Lake  is  that  its  water  is  as  blue  as  the  darkest 
indigo,  looked  at  from  a  distance  or  while  riding  on  its 
bosom  in  a  skiff,  but  if  dipped  into  a  cup  it  is  as  clear  as 
the  purest  mountain  stream.  This  coloring  is  supposed 
to  be  caused  by  the  atmospheric  effect,  in  conjunction 
with  the  reflection  of  the  sky  into  such  an  enormous 
cavity  in  the  earth's  surface.  Taken  as  a  whole,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  which  wnll  rival  any  of  its  remark- 
able features,  and  it  is  destined  to  become  a  most  popular 
resort  for  those  who  are  investigating  the  causes  and 
effects  of  Nature's  mysterious  ways. 

Mr,  Tongue  joined  our  party  on  this  outing,  not  only 
for  the  reason  that  he  had  never  seen  Crater  Lake,  but 
in  the  hope  that  his  health,  which  had  not  been  good  for 
a  year,  w^ould  improve.  The  trip  was  made  under  the 
auspices  of  Will  G.  Steel,  the  veteran  boomer  of  Crater 
Lake.  We  camped  the  first  night  out  from  Med  ford  at 
Eagle  Point,  a  delightful  typical  country  village  in  a 
splendid  agricultural  section.  The  people  in  the  neigh- 
borhood came  to  our  camp  after  dark,  and  by  huge 
bonfires  se\'eral  speeches  were  made,  Mr.  Tongue  being 
especially  happy  in  his  remarks.  But  it  was  frequently 
remarked  by  different  members  of  the  party  that  he  was 
in  an  enfeebled  physical  condition.  When  we  made  our 
camp  on  the  banks  of  the  picturesque  Rogue  River  and 
most  of  us  began  fishing  for  the  delicious  mountain  trout 
with  which  that  stream  abounds.  Tongue  spread  his 
blankets  down  and  rested,  explaining  to  me  that  his  con- 
dition was  worse,  he  feared,  than  most  people  supposed. 

The  next  day  the  teams  all  stopped  when  w^e  came  to 
a  small  stream  which  flowed  across  the  road.  Tongue 
sat  down  for  a  rest  on  an  old  rail  fence  which  had  not 
been  repaired  for  a  generation,  it  seemed.  I  suggested 
to  him  that  Steel  get  his  kodak  and  take  his  picture,  to  be 
printed  in  the  Oregonian  and  under  it  the  words :  "Con- 
gressman Tongue  in  his  favorite  attitude." 

At  that  moment  I  was  picking  up  a  rail  from  the 
ground  with  which  to  make  myself  a  seat,  and  Tongue 
quickly  retorted : 


4.88  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"All  right,  I've  no  objection,  but  let  him  take  one  of 
you  also,  with  the  explanation :  'Governor  Gear  still 
mending  his  fences.'  " 

The  day  following  our  arri\al  at  the  lake  the  entire 
party  descended  the  precipitous  path  which  leads  to  the 
water's  edge,  took  a  couple  of  treacherous  skiffs  that 
were  there,  and  rowed  across  to  "Wizard  Island."  It 
was  a  very  foolhard}^  thing  to  do,  considering  the  sort 
of  boats  we  used,  but  we  arrived  safely  and  made  the 
very  difficult,  because  exhausting,  ascent  of  the  island, 
every  step  sinking  a  foot  into  the  loose  lava  (I  mean 
sinking  a  foot  a  foot  deep  into  it).  In  descending,  one 
would  often  slide  ten  feet  at  a  time  after  taking  one  step, 
moving  a  rod  square  of  loose  rocks  in  the  operation. 

The  climb  out  of  the  lake  was  a  most  fatiguing  under- 
taking and  v,-e  scattered  out  in  the  ascent  as  each  one  felt 
able  to  proceed.  W'e  had  all  reached  camp  far  ahead  of 
Tongue,  and  were  discussing  the  advisability  of  sending 
some  one  after  him  when  he  appeared  at  the  top  of  the 
cliff  not  far  away.  Kveryl)ody  remarked  the  awful  pallor 
of  his  countenance  and  his  lips  were  of  such  a  deep 
purple  color  that  general  alarm  was  felt.  He  sank  down 
on  a  near-by  bunk,  completely  exhausted,  and  was  unable 
to  talk  for  several  minutes.  He  soon  recovered,  how- 
ever, and  seemed  once  more  himself:  but  when  his  death 
was  announced  some  four  months  later  as  having  oc- 
curred suddenly  at  Washington,  it  was  not  at  all  surpris- 
ing to  those  who  were  his  companions  during  his  last 
vacation. 


a 

■Si 

o 

PC 


CHAPTER  LXTV 

Taken  all  in  all,  Oregon,  considering  that  it  is  situated 
on  the  western  verge  of  the  continent,  has  had  a  most 
interesting,  almost  romantic,  history.  The  very  difficulty 
by  which  it  was  reached  in  the  early  days  made  it  doubly 
attractive  to  the  adventuresome  spirit  which  dominated 
the  men  who  took  possession  of  it  sixty  and  seventy 
years  ago.  As  I  approach  the  point  where  this  work 
must  be  drawn  to  a  close,  I  realize  what  an  abundance 
of  material  there  is  relating  to  many  prominent  men 
who  wrought  here  in  those  days  which  I  have  not  touched 
upon  at  all.  It  is  a  "far  cry"  from  the  present  "Oregon 
vSystem"  of  choosing  public  officers  to  the  manner  of 
controlling  a  Legislature  in  the  "days  of  '49."  when  the 
first  territorial  lawmaking  body  met  at  Oregon  City, 
tiien  the  capital.  Nothing  has  been  said  of  Jacob  Conser, 
Samuel  Parker,  John  Grim,  H.  N.  V.  Holmes,  "Bob" 
Kinney,  A.  J.  Hembree,  Wesley  Shannon,  Nathaniel 
Ford — all  members  of  that  body — or  of  Fred  Waymire, 
James  jNIcBride,  Ralph  Wilcox,  Ben  Simpson  and  others 
who  were  members  of  the  next  Legislature,  all  men  of 
force,  character  and  patriotic  impulses,  the  salt  of  the 
earth. 

One  of  the  prominent  men  in  Oregon  for  many  years  in 
its  formative  period  was  Benjamin  Simpson,  who  bears 
the  distinction  of  being  the  only  man  in  the  history  of 
the  State  who  has  serv^ed  in  the  Legislature  from  four 
different  counties.  He  was  a  member  of  the  House  in 
1850  from  Clackamas  County,  from  Marion  County  in 
1 85 1,  and  again  in  1852;  in  1853  he  was  a  member  of 
the  council  from  Marion  County,  and  served  a  single 
term.  In  1862  he  had  located  in  Polk  County,  and  ap- 
parently from  force  of  habit  went  to  the  Legislature 
from  that  subdivision  of  the  State.  In  1872  he  was 
elected  from  Benton  County,  thus  establishing  a  record 

459 


490  FIFTY   YEARS  IN  OREGON 

that  stands  alone  in  this  State.  A  few  months  before  his 
death,  which  occurred  in  Portland  in  the  summer  of  1910 
at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-two  years,  he  told  me  a 
number  of  incidents  of  his  early  experience  in  Oregon 
public  life.  As  to  his  election  to  the  Legislature  from 
Benton  County  in  1872,  he  said; 

"One  of  the  most  amusing  incidents  connected  with 
my  public  life  happened  in  the  election  in  June,  1872.  I 
had  been  living  for  a  number  of  years  in  Salem,  but  in 
that  year  was  engaged  in  building  a  schooner  over  at 
Yaquina  Bay.  I  had  taken  a  twenty-two  thousand  dollar 
contract  and  was  employing  a  large  number  of  men.  I 
was  there  myself  practically  all  the  time  and  when  the 
campaign  opened  I  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to  the 
Legislature.  I  had  no  trouble  in  getting  the  nomination, 
but  at  once  the  Democrats  got  busy  in  an  effort  to  defeat 
me  on  the  ground  that  I  was  a  carpet-bagger,  an  importa- 
tion, etc.  From  the  day  of  my  nomination  the  campaign 
■vvas  red-hot  and  it  kept  myself  and  friends  busy  explain- 
ing that  under  the  laws  of  Oregon  I  was,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, a  citizen  of  Benton  County  and  that,  further, 
I  was  there  engaged  in  developing  its  maritime  resources 
and  that,  in  my  judgment,  Yaquina  Bay  was  destined  to 
become  one  of  the  greatest  seaports  on  the  Pacific  Coast, 
etc. 

''But  this  argument  had  no  eft'ect  toward  lessening  the 
bitterness  of  the  Democratic  campaign,  and  I  found 
myself  in  the  midst  of  the  fight  of  my  life.  I  voted  at 
Yaquina  and  the  next  day  went  over  the  mountains  to 
Corvallis,  where  the  results  of  the  election  were  being 
received.  I  arrived  there  late  in  the  afternoon  and  saw 
a  large  crowd  of  men  standing  in  front  of  the  court- 
house. When  I  had  reached  a  point  two  blocks  away  I 
was  recognized,  and  one  of  my  most  enthusiastic  sup- 
porters and  workers  started  toward  me  and  shouted  at 
the  very  top  of  his  voice:  'Hurrah,  Ben;  hurry  up. 
You're  elected  by  sixty  majority,  and  if  you  had  really 
been  a  resident  of  the  county  you  would  have  beat  'em 
bv  at  least  four  hundred.' 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  491 

"Of  course  the  joke  was  on  me,  but  1  had  won  the 
election  all  right  and  it  was  only  one  of  the  incidents  in 
the  game  of  politics. 

"In  1849  I  took  an  active  part  in  bringing  out 
Samuel  R.  Thurston  for  Congress.  I  wanted  to  beat 
Jim  Nesmith,  who  concluded  that  he  would  like  to  rep- 
resent the  new  territory  at  Washington,  and  Thurston 
was  the  best  timber  we  had  to  do  it  with,  I  thought.  He 
was  nominated  and  elected  and  on  the  morning  he  was 
going  to  start  away  a  crowd  of  us  had  gathered  on  the 
bank  of  the  Willamette  at  Oregon  City.  Thurston  lived 
just  across  the  river  in  Linn  City,  which  at  that  early 
day  was  a  serious  rival  of  both  Oregon  City  and  Port- 
land. I  had  a  store  and  sawmill  at  Clackamas,  another 
ambitious  and  promising  town  on  the  Willamette  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Clackamas  River.  The  day  before  Thurs- 
ton had  been  down  to  my  store  and  bought  a  bottle  of 
vinegar.  I  furnished  the  bottle  and  he  promised  to 
return  it  the  next  morning  as  he  started  to  Washington. 
We  had  not  stood  long  on  the  bank  of  the  river  watch- 
ing for  him  when  he  appeared  and  went  down  toward 
the  bank  to  take  the  ferry-boat.  There  was  a  woman 
there  also,  with  an  umbrella  in  her  hand,  and  when 
Thurston  started  to  board  the  boat  we  could  see  that  the 
two  began  a  vigorous  conversation,  attended  by  a  series 
of  gestures  which  indicated  a  decided  difference  of 
opinion.  The  argument  didn't  last  long,  however,  for 
the  woman  began  to  hunt  for  Thurston's  solar  plexus 
with  the  point  of  her  umbrella,  and  a  broadside  sent  his 
hat  to  grass,  while  the  Congressman--elect  grabbed  her 
wTists  and  held  her  until  her  ire  subsided  and  he  was 
allowed  to  depart  in  peace. 

"The  melee  furnished  our  party  a  deal  of  fun  and 
when  he  arrived  on  our  side  of  the  river  Thurston  ex- 
plained that  he  and  his  antagonist  had  had  some  differ- 
ences (I  have  now  forgotten  what  the  trouble  was 
about),  and  he  added,  'Ben.  in  the  scuffle  I  dropped  your 
bottle  and  it  broke  in  a  thousand  pieces.'  He  offered  to 
pay  for  it,  bottles  of  any  kind  in  those  days  being  worth 


492  FIFTY   YEARS  IN  OREGOX 

money,  but  I  told  him  to  let  it  go  as  the  fun  was  worth 
the  price  of  a  full-sized  demijohn." 

Samuel  R.  Thurston,  of  whom  Simpson  speaks  in  the 
foregoing  incident,  was  a  prominent  figure  in  the  early 
territorial  days,  being  the  first  delegate  to  Congress  after 
the  establishment  of  the  territorial  government.  He  w-as 
born  in  Maine,  in  1816.  was  a  graduate  of  Bowdoin 
College,  and  came  to  Oregon  from  Iowa  across  the  plains 
in  1847.  After  his  election  to  Congress,  in  1849.  he 
went  to  Washington,  served  one  term  and  on  his  way 
home  died  at  sea  between  Panama  and  Acapulco.  His 
remains  were  buried  at  the  latter  place  at  the  time,  but 
a  few  years  afterward,  the  territorial  Legislature  having 
appropriated  money  for  the  purpose,  they  were  exhumed 
and  reinterred  in  the  Odd  Fellow's  Cemetery  at  Salem. 
The  State  has  since  erected  a  monument  over  his  grave, 
on  which  are  these  words : 

"Here  rests  Oregon's  first  delegate ;  a  man  of  genius 
and  learning,  a  lawyer  and  statesman ;  his  Christian 
virtues  equaled  by  his  wide  philanthropy.  His  public 
acts  were  his  best  culogium." 

Thurston  was  a  very  popular  man.  proof  of  which 
permeates  the  early  records  of  Oregon  history;  but  not 
the  least  conclusive  is  the  fact  that  nearly  every  boy 
born  in  the  territory  in  1850  or  1851  has  Thurston  for 
either  his  front  or  middle  name;  among  the  latter  the 
writer  of  these  lines  is  duly  registered. 

One  of  the  best  known  of  the  early  pioneers  was 
Samuel  K.  Barlow,  who  crossed  the  plains  in  1845.  Ar- 
riving at  The  Dalles  and  finding  that  those  who  had 
preceded  him  had  made  the  remainder  of  the  journey  to 
the  Willamette  valley  by  rafting  their  belongings  down 
the  Columbia  River,  he  decided  it  was  time  somebody 
built  a  wagon  road  across  the  Cascades.  The  result  was 
the  making  of  what  was  for  fifty  years  known  as  the 
Barlow  road,  over  which,  late  in  the  season,  he  and  his 
companions  reached  their  destination. 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  493 

Barlow  settled  on  a  beautiful  small  prairie  just  south 
of  Oregon  City  which  to  this  day  is  known  as  "Barlow's 
Prairie."  He  came  from  Indiana  and  after  a  few  years 
began  to  yearn  for  the  walnut  trees  with  which  he  had 
been  familiar  in  that  State.  Walnut  trees  do  not  grow 
indigenously  in  Oregon,  but  when  transplanted  thrive 
fully  as  well  as  in  the  ?^lississippi  X'alley.  To  gratify  his 
longing  for  walnut  trees  in  his  new  home  he  arranged 
with  Thurston,  before  his  departure  for  Washington,  to 
bring  back  with  him  a  bushel  of  walnuts  which  he  would 
write  his  people  in  Indiana  to  send  to  the  national  capital 
before  his  return.  This  was  done  and  they  were  aboard 
the  vessel  when  Thurston  died.  This  event  unsettled  the 
ordinary  course  of  things  and  Barlow's  walnuts  were  not 
heard  of — or  from — in  fact,  he  had  no  assurance  that 
Thurston  had  started  with  them.  After  a  couple  of 
months,  however,  he  received  word  from  an  agent  in 
Portland  that  there  was  a  bag  of  something  there  which 
apparently  belonged  to  him  and  that  there  was  a  charge 
of  fifty  dollars  on  it — for  freight. 

Barlow  at  once  wrote  the  agent  that  he  would  never 
pay  such  an  outrageous  price  for  the  walnuts  and  that 
he  could  keep  them  for  his  debt — that  if  he  was  going 
to  be  robbed,  he  wanted  it  to  be  a  first-class  job!  But, 
in  describing  the  circumstance  afterward,  he  said  the 
more  he  thought  the  matter  over  the  more  unreconciled 
he  was  to  the  fact  that  only  fifty  miles  away  there  was  a 
bushel  of  real  old  Indiana  walnuts — right  from  his  old 
home — and  after  a  week  of  unrest  he  w^ent  to  Portland, 
paid  the  fifty  dollars  freight  bill  on  his  bushel  of  walnuts 
and  went  home,  happy,  he  said,  notwithstanding  the 
robbery ! 

But  it  proved  a  good  financial  investment,  after  all, 
for  he  planted  the  nuts  the  following  fall,  nearly  all  of 
them  grew,  and  they  did  so  remarkably  well  that  within 
two  years  he  had  sold  fully  a  hundred  of  them  at  one 
dollar  each  and  had  enough  left  to  line  the  roadway  lead- 
ing from  his  handsome  residence  to  the  public  highway. 
To-day  the  beautiful  archway  formed  by  the  intertwining 


494  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

branches  of  those  wahiut  trees,  now  sixty-five  years  old, 
is  admired  by  passengers  on  the  Southern  Pacific  Rail- 
road as  the  train  stops  at  the  "Barlow"  station;  but  not 
many  of  the  thousands  of  people,  even  Oregonians,  who 
have  commented  on  their  beauty,  are  aware  of  their 
Indiana  origin  or  the  part  Samuel  R.  Thurston  had  in 
the  original  transfer. 

Several  of  the  beautiful  walnuts  to  be  seen  on  the 
streets  of  Salem,  and  in  other  parts  of  the  State,  were 
obtained  sixty  years  ago  from  the  Barlow  importation 
from  Hoosierdom. 


CHAPTER  LXV 

Of  course  it  would  be  impossible  to  carry  on  a  civil 
government  without  a  sufificient  number  of  office  holders 
to  insure  the  proper  administration  of  its  laws,  and, 
equally  of  course,  civilization  would  not  survive  without 
civil  governments — and  yet  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
a  man  who  has  spent  the  better  part  of  his  days  in  the 
public  service  who  will  not  freely  declare  that  he  made 
a  great  mistake  and  that  he  would  have  pursued  a  much 
wiser  course  had  he  followed  some  business  pursuit  and 
"left  politics  alone."  No  doubt  that,  from  a  financial 
standpoint,  the  average  man  would  have  fared  better  had 
he  avoided  the  political  whirlpool  and  remained  in  private 
life,  thus  disappointing  the  "muckraker*'  and  contribu- 
ting to  the  peace  and  comfort  of  his  own  mind  as  well 
as  to  the  mental  tranquillity  of  his  family. 

I  know  that  most  of  the  men  who  have  "passed  the 
chairs"  look  backward,  after  an  active  interest  and  par- 
ticipation in  the  turmoil  of  political  warfare — "warfare" 
is  the  proper  word — and  wonder  why  it  had  any  attrac- 
tion for  them,  why  so  many  have  striven  to  follow  the 
same  pathway,  usually  strewn  with  an  appalling  amount 
of  wreckage. 

I  have  often  seen  a  much  greater  scramble  in  a  con- 
vention over  the  nomination  for  county  commissioner  or 
assessor  than  for  that  of  sheriff  or  clerk, — the  fact  being 
an  evidence  that  there  is  a  charm  about  mere  office- 
holding,  regardless  of  the  real  value  of  the  position,  that 
is  irresistible  to  the  ordinary  man.  To  analyze  the  basis 
of  it  leads  one  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  founded  largely 
on  vanity — and  yet  all  of  us,  or  most  of  us.  must  plead 
guilty  to  the  weakness  and  it  is  practically  incurable. 

Perhaps,  however,  it  is  providential,  for  the  reason 
already  indicated — that  it  would  be  impossible  to  sustain 

495 


496  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

a  government  unless  men  made  such  sacrifices  as  are 
necessary  to  administer  its  laws.  The  average  American 
is  a  home-huilder,  a  home-lover,  a  home-defender,  and 
the  safety  of  the  home  depends  altogether  upon  a  stable 
and  just  government. 

We  have  seen  that  the  first  American  settlers  in  the 
Oregon  Country  did  not  wait  long  in  the  wilderness  to 
which  they  had  come  before  making  provision  for  a 
government,  though  they  came  from  all  walks  of  life 
and  most  of  them,  naturally,  were  without  experience 
in  legislative  matters. 

But  the  raw  material  for  the  construction  of  a  credi- 
table Legislature  was  here,  and  when  the  necessity  for 
action  arrived  it  found  them  ready  to  grapple  with  the 
situation.  When  a  Legislature  was  authorized  its  mem- 
bers served  for  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  a  day.  "ad- 
journed till  after  harvest,"  reassembled,  after  their  wheat 
had  been  garnered,  "in  the  old  Methodist  church"  and 
did  honest  service,  clad  in  buckskin  trousers  and  often 
coatless. 

An  amusing  instance  of  the  difficulties  under  which 
the  Oregon  pioneers  discharged  their  Legislative  duties 
was  given  a  few  years  ago  by  ex-Senator  James  W. 
Nesmith  in  an  address  before  the  Oregon  Pioneer  As- 
sociation. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  honest  and  simple  direct- 
ness which  pervaded  our  Legislative  proceedings  of 
that  day,  I  will  mention  that  in  1847  I  had  the  honor  of 
a  seat  in  the  Legislature  of  the  provisional  govern- 
ment. It  was  my  first  step  on  the  slippery  rungs  of  the 
political  ladder.  The  Legislature  then  consisted  of 
but  one  House  and  we  sat  in  the  old  Methodist  church 
at  the  Falls.  Close  by  the  church  Barton  Lee  had  con- 
structed a  ten-pin  alley  to  which  some  of  my  fellow 
members  were  in  the  habit  of  resorting  to  seek  relaxa- 
tion and  refreshment  after  their  Legislative  toils.  I 
had  aspired  to  the  Speakership  and  had  supposed  my- 
self sure  of  the  position,  but  the  same  uncertainty 
existed  in  political  matters  that  I  have  seen  so  much 
of  since,     Some  of  my  friends  "threw  off"  on  me 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  A97 

and  elected  a  better  man  in  the  person  of  Dr.  Robert 
Newell — God  bless  his  soul !  In  the  small  collection  of 
books  at  the  Falls,  known  as  the  Multnomah  Library, 
I  found  what  I  hud  never  heard  of  before — a  copy  of 
"Jefferson's  Manual" — and  after  giving  it  an  evening's 
perusal  by  the  light  of  an  armful  of  pitch  knots,  I 
found  there  was  such  a  thing  in  parliamentary  usage 
as  "the  previous  question." 

I  had  a  bill  then  pending  to  cut  off  the  southern 
end  of  Yamhill  and  to  establish  the  county  of  Polk, 
which  measure  had  violent  opposition  in  the  body. 
One  morning,  while  most  of  the  opponents  of  my 
bill  were  amusing  themselves  at  "horse  billiards"  in 
Lee's  ten-pin  alley,  I  called  up  my  bill,  and,  after  mak- 
ing the  best  argument  I  could  in  its  favor,  I  con- 
cluded with,  "And  now,  Mr.  Speaker,  upon  this  bill 
I  move  the  previous  question."  Newell  looked  con- 
fused, and  I  was  satisfied  he  had  no  conception  of 
what  I  meant;  but  he  rallied,  and,  looking  wise  and 
severe  (I  have  since  seen  presiding  officers  at  Wash- 
ington do  the  same  thing),  said:  "Sit  down,  sir!  Re- 
sume your  seat!  Do  you  intend  to  trifle  with  the 
Chair,  when  you  know  that  we  passed  the  previous 
question  two  weeks  ago?  It  zvas  the  first  thing  we 
done!" 

I  got  a  vote,  however,  before  the  "horse  billiard" 
players  returned,  and  Polk  County  has  a  legal  ex- 
istence to-day,  notwithstanding  the  adverse  ruling 
upon  a  question  of  parliamentary  usage. 

Genial,  kind-hearted  Newell !  How  many  of  you 
recollect  his  good  qualities,  and  how  heartily  have 
you  laughed  around  the  camp-fire  at  his  favorite 
song,  "Love  and  Sassingers."  I  can  hear  the  lugu- 
brious refrain  describing  how  his  dulcinea  was  cap- 
tured by  the  butcher's  boy. 

"And  there  sat  faithless  she 
A-frying  sassingers  for  he." 

He  has  folded  his  robe  about  him  and  lain  down 
to  rest  among  the  mountains  he  loved  so  well  and 
which  have  so  often  echoed  the  merry  tones  of  his 
voice. 


498  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

The  following  extract  from  an  address  delivered  by 
Mrs.  Sarelia  Griffith  Miller  before  the  annual  gathering 
of  the  Oregon  Native  Sons  and  Daughters  a  few  years 
ago  narrates  an  incident,  which,  aside  from  its  ludicrous- 
ness,  illustrates  how  our  people  lived  under  pioneer  con- 
ditions : 

A  dear,  sweet  old  lady,  Mrs.  Buck,  of  Oregon  City, 
told  me  the  following  incident  in  her  own  life:  "We 
were  living,"  said  she,  "not  far  from  where  Portland 
now  stands ;  our  home  was  as  good  and  as  well  fur- 
nished as  any  of  the  homes  in  those  times.  It  hap- 
pened that  two  officers  from  an  English  vessel  just 
arrived  from  Fort  Vancouver  had  been  hunting,  and 
night  overtook  them  near  our  house.  They  came  and 
asked  for  a  night's  lodging.  We  told  them  that  we 
were  not  prepared  to  make  them  comfortable,  but 
would  make  a  bed  on  the  floor  if  they  could  accept 
that.  They  thanked  us  and  said  that  they  were  glad 
to  find  a  house  to  sleep  in  and  not  be  obliged  to  stay 
in  the  woods  all  night. 

"W^ell,  we  had  supper,  and  we  sat  around  the  big, 
bright  fire  talking  until  quite  late,  for  both  the  gentle- 
men were  cultured  Englishmen  and  splendid  conver- 
sationalists and  we  enjoyed  the  talk.  Finally,  we 
all  retired  for  the  night,  they  to  their  pallet  on  the 
floor,  and  husband  and  I  to  a  little  room  which  opened 
off  this  room  where  our  visitors  were.  Our  houses 
did  not  have  doubled  plastered  walls  and  partitions 
in  those  days,  but  very  thin  boards  with  quite  wide 
cracks  between.  One  could  easily  hear  from  one  room 
to  the  other  every  word  spoken — in  fact,  it  was  most 
impossible  not  to  hear.  About  the  time  they  were 
getting  into  bed.  I  heard  one  of  them  say,  T  wish 
I  had  a  night-cap.'  I  thought  I  had  better  get  up  and 
give  him  one  of  mine,  or,  perhaps,  both  gentlemen 
would  like  to  have  night-caps.  But  my  caps  were  so 
plain,  and  these  were  such  aristocratic  looking  gentle- 
men, that  I  did  not  like  to  offer  them.  He  said  nothing 
more,  and  I  concluded  he  had  gone  to  sleep.  By  and  by, 
it  seemed  to  me  about  half  an  hour  afterwards,  I 
heard  him  say,  'Rae,  are  you  awake?'  and  the  answer, 
'Yes.'    Then  the  first  voice  again,  T  can  never  go  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  499 

sleep  without  a  night-cap.'     And  the  reply,  'Neither 
can  I.' 

"I  waited  no  longer,"  said  the  dear  old  lady ;  "I 
took  two  of  my  night-caps,  made  of  white  muslin 
with  strings  to  tie  under  the  chin,  and  going  to  the 
door  put  my  hand  through  and  said,  'Gentlemen,  here 
are  two  night-caps;  they  are  plain  and  rather  small, 
but  perhaps  you  can  use  them.'  I  heard  a  faint  sound 
of  suppressed  laughter,  then  in  an  instant  the  house 
resounded  with  the  hearty  laughing  of  those  gentle- 
men, who  finally  managed  to  tell  me  that  my  night- 
caps were  not  the  kind  they  wanted." 

Among  the  men  who  participated  prominently  in  the 
affairs  of  Oregon  in  the  early  days  and  who  w^as  an 
intimate  and  personal  friend  of  Robert  Newell — he  who 
decided  that  the  previous  question  ''had  been  passed  tw^o 
weeks  ago" — was  J.  J.  Murphy,  who  during  the  last 
fifteen  years  of  his  life  was  clerk  of  the  State  Supreme 
Court.  Murphy  was  very  influential  with  the  people  of 
French  Prairie,  where  his  home  had  been  when  a  young 
man,  and  had  served  the  people  of  Marion  County  as 
sheriff,  clerk,  and  for  a  term  or  two  in  the  Legislature. 
He  had  also  been  I\Iayor  of  Salem.  He  w-as  well  past 
seventy  years  of  age  when  death  claimed  him,  but  he 
will  be  remembered  by  his  host  of  friends  as  a  boy  to  the 
last  in  buoyancy  and  cheerfulness  and  keen  humor.  Ad- 
vancing age  impaired  his  health,  though  he  "died  in  the 
harness,"  but  after  a  chat  with  him  one  always  felt  the 
better  for  it. 

While  the  Legislature  w-as  in  session  in  January,  1901, 
Judge  Wolverton,  of  the  Supreme  Court,  gave  a  little 
dinner  to  a  few^  invited  guests  at  his  home.  During  the 
progress  of  the  meal  we  were  discussing  some  of  the  bills 
which  had  been  introduced  in  the  Legislature,  and  among 
them  one  which  proposed  to  levy  a  pretty  stiff  tax  on 
dogs,  from  the  consideration  of  which  we  drifted  into 
a  general  argument  as  to  the  dog. 

"I  have  always  had  a  warm  spot  in  my  heart  for  dogs," 
said  Murphy,  who,  with  his  wife,  w'as  among  the  guests. 


500  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"but  Mrs.  Murphy  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  them. 
I  remember  that  on  the  day  we  were  married,  after  the 
ceremony  had  been  concluded  and  we  were  left  alone, 
I  suggested  to  her  that,  inasmuch  as  I  would  be  com- 
pelled on  account  of  my  business  to  be  away  from  home 
much  of  the  time,  I  had  better  get  a  dog  to  keep  her 
compan}^  I  had  not  before  discussed  dogs  with  her, 
there  always  being  other  subjects  at  hand  that  occupied 
my  attention,  so  I  was  naturally  surprised  to  hear  her 
say  she  disliked  dogs  very  much  and  that  she  would 
prefer  no  company  at  all  to  that  of  a  dog. 

"Of  course  I  wanted  to  be  agreeable,  especially  then,  so 
I  dropped  the  subject.  But  the  next  day  I  ventured  it 
again,  doing  so  by  degrees  and  diplomatically,  but  her 
answer  was  the  same — she  could  get  along  very  well 
without  any  company  at  all,  if  necessary,  at  such  times  as 
I  could  not  be  at  home,  so  again  I  let  the  matter  drop. 

"The  next  dav  T  thought  T  v.ould  see  if,  under  the 
benign  influence  of  married  life,  she  had  not  conquered 
her  antipathy  to  dogs,  but  I  had  not  proceeded  nearly 
so  far  as  the  day  before,  when  she  said : 

"  'Now,  it's  no  use  to  speak  of  getting  a  dog  any  more, 
for  I  positively  will  not  ha\'e  one  around  the  house — 
not  under  any  circumstances.'  So,  finding  her  mind  un- 
changed. I  dropped  the  question  permanently  and  we 
finally  compromised  the  matter  and  didn't  get  a  dog 
at  all !" 


CHAPTER  LXVI 

While  reviewing  the  pohtical  successes,  disappoint- 
ments and  occasional  upheavals  which  have  overtaken  all 
of  us  who  have  been  actively  connected  with  public 
affairs  in  Oregon  during  the  past  thirty  years,  I  am 
often  reminded  of  a  remark  made  to  me  once  by  Presi- 
dent McKinley.  It  was  while  in  Chicago  in  October, 
1899,  when  he  was  there  to  officiate  at  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  the  new  Federal  Building.  He  had  in- 
vited such  Governors  as  had  responded  to  his  invitation 
to  be  present  on  that  occasion  to  lunch  with  him  at  the 
Union  League  Club  rooms  and  while  we  happened  to 
be  alone  for  a  few  moments,  he  said : 

"You  didn't  expect  to  be  Governor  of  Oregon  when 
you  called  at  my  home  that  time  on  your  way  to  Wash- 
ington with  the  electoral  vote  of  your  State,  did  you?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "at  that  time  I  hoped  to  be  the  next 
collector  of  customs  at  Portland." 

This  reference  to  that  contest  in  which  our  delegation 
had  "turned-down"  my  aspirations  brought  a  smile  to  his 
face,  and  he  said : 

"Well,  Governor,  these  defeats  are  often  victories  in 
disguise — it  was  so  in  your  case  and  it  was  in  mine  once. 
You,  no  doubt,  remember  that  I  was  a  candidate  for 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  at  the  time  Tom 
Reed  was  elected.  I  am  sure  I  have  never  so  intensely 
desired  to  succeed  in  my  life  as  I  did  then  and  the  defeat 
about  destroyed  my  ambition  to  continue  longer  in  public 
life — in  fact,  I  thought  it  had  closed  my  public  career. 

"That  disappointment  was  followed,  you  remember. 
by  my  defeat  for  a  re-election  to  Congress  through  the 
gerrymandering  of  my  district  by  the  opposition ;  but  the 
growing  popularity  of  what  was  known  as  the  'McKinley 
Tariff  Bill'  came  to  my  relief  and  election  to  the  Gover- 
norship of  Ohio  followed,  and  then  the  Presidency. 

501 


502  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"It  is  altogether  likely  that  if  I  had  been  elected 
Speaker  of  the  House  I  would  have  remained  a  member 
of  that  body  until  now,  for  on  account  of  my  defeat  I 
was  made  chairman  of  the  Ways  and  Means  Committee, 
and  by  reason  of  that  position  was  instrumental  in  fram- 
ing the  tariff  law  which  bore  my  name.  This  measure 
became  very  popular  and  had  more  to  do  with  my  elec- 
tion to  the  Presidency  than  any  other  one  thing. 

"So,  as  I  said,  we  never  know  in  advance  the  real 
value  of  a  defeat — we  usually  think  it  will  kill  at  the 
time,  but  it  is  frequently  the  best  kind  of  medicine.  In 
your  case,  if  you  had  been  appointed  collector  of  customs 
when  you  wanted  that  position  the  probability  is  that 
you  would  never  have  been  Governor  of  Oregon.  We 
poor  mortals  are  not  well  qualified  to  read  the  future  or 
to  judge  correctly  from  the  appearance  of  things." 

That  last  observation  by  President  McKinley  to  the 
effect  that  we  should  not  be  too  fast  in  forming  our  con- 
clusions, recalls  an  experience  I  once  had  while  travel- 
ing through  Missouri.  It  was  in  October,  1887,  the  year 
in  which  the  question  of  prohibition  was  submitted  to 
the  people  of  Oregon  as  a  separate  proposition  at  a 
special  election  held  in  November.  About  the  first  of 
October  I  made  a  visit  to  the  Eastern  States,  but  before 
going  had  made  a  few  addresses  in  favor  of  the  proposed 
amendment. 

Among  other  places  I  wanted  to  visit  on  this  trip  was 
the  birthplace  of  my  Grandfather  Eoff.  in  Kentucky, 
from  which  he  had  been  gone  more  than  fifty  years.  He 
was  then,  of  course,  an  old  man  and  as  I  started  away 
he  asked  me  to  get  a  bottle  of  the  real  Kentucky  apple- 
jack, such  as  they  made  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  to  get 
it,  if  possible,  at  the  old  homestead. 

In  the  course  of  my  wanderings  I  arrived  at  the  old 
place  down  in  Pulaski  County  and  found  that  it  was 
owned  Dy  a  distant  relative  who  remembered  my  grand- 
father well.  I  slept  that  night  in  a  room  in  the  hickory 
log  house,  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  and  next  day 
told  John  Green  Eoff  of  the  particular  request  of  my 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  503 

grandfather.  "All  right,"  he  said,  "we  will  go  right 
by  an  old  still  where  we  can  get  just  what  he  wants." 

We  walked  through  the  woods,  across  country,  to  the 
station,  two  miles  distant,  and  on  the  way  came  to  a 
small  stream  on  which  was  a  rickety  building  called  a 
distillery.  A  bottle  holding  a  pint  was  procured.  It  was 
filled  with  Kentucky  applejack  and  I  put  it  in  an  inside 
pocket  of  my  overcoat. 

I  stopped  in  an  Illinois  town  afterward  with  a  cousin 
w^ho  was  a  pronounced  prohibitionist  and  in  discussing 
the  question  he  gave  me  a  paper  containing  an  article  on 
the  subject.  As  I  had  not  the  time  then  to  read  it  I  put 
the  paper  in  my  overcoat  pocket. 

After  I  had  become  settled  in  my  seat,  upon  leaving 
St.  Louis  for  home,  I  became  acquainted  with  a  minister 
from  South  Carolina  who  was  going  to  Astoria.  After 
awhile,  drifting  into  a  discussion  of  some  religious  ques- 
tions, I  discovered  that  he  was  a  strong  believer  in  future 
endless  punishment,  to  which  I  objected.  Our  friendly 
argument  lasted  an  hour,  much  to  the  interest  of  the 
passengers,  who  were  attentive  listeners. 

The  next  morning  after  everybody  had  been  to  break- 
fast some  reckless  passenger  suggested  that  "to  while 
the  time  away"  the  preacher  and  I  engage  in  another 
"debate."  Something  was  said  by  somebody  that 
brought  up  the  question  of  prohibition,  when  it  tran- 
spired that  the  minister  was  opposed  to  prohibition  by 
law,  taking  the  high  ground  that  any  kind  of  abstinence 
that  is  the  result  of  force  and  not  of  "moral  suasion"  is 
chaff — utterly  worthless. 

This  opened  the  way  to  a  somewhat  heated  contro- 
versy, in  the  course  of  which  he  made  a  statement  that 
recalled  a  point  strongly  made  in  the  paper  which  was 
in  my  overcoat  pocket.     So  I  said : 

"My  friend,  if  you  will  wait  a  moment  I  will  get  a 
paper  from  my  other  coat  which  plainly  shows  the 
fallacy  of  your  proposition." 

The  coat  was  in  a  vacant  seat  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
car  and  all  the  passengers,  together  with  the  minister, 


504  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

watched  me  as  I  hurried  down  the  aisle  to  get  my  paper. 
Arriving  at  the  seat,  I  picked  up  the  coat,  by  the  tail  of 
course,  being  a  man,  and  that  measly  bottle  of  Kentucky 
applejack  dropped  to  the  floor  in  plain  sight  of  every- 
body, and  instead  of  sliding  at  once  under  the  seat,  found 
its  place  in  the  very  center  of  the  aisle  and  rolled  fully 
ten  feet  before  it  disappeared! 

To  say  that  all  the  passengers  roared,  fell  over  their 
seats,  slapped  each  other  on  the  back  and  performed  like 
a  pack  of  idiots  generally,  is  but  to  recount  what  I  would 
have  done  had  I  been  a  spectator  of  such  a  ludicrous 
happening. 

Of  course  I  was  greatly  embarrassed,  being  an  entire 
stranger  to  everybody,  but  joined  in  the  general  laughter, 
though  I  am  quite  sure  my  effort  in  the  matter  had  a 
rather  sickly  complexion.  After  the  fun  had  subsided 
somewhat  I  began  to  explain  how  it  was.  when  the 
preacher,  wiping  his  eyes  on  his  handkerchief,  said : 

"Oh,  that's  all  right ;  it  is  usually  the  case,  when  you 
find  one  of  these  prohibition  cranks,  that  he  has  a  bottle 
about  his  clothes  somewhere!"  And  that  ended  the 
discussion. 

On  another  occasion  I  was  returning  home  from 
Chicago,  when,  at  a  small  station  in  Dakota,  the  train 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes  and  all  the  passengers  but 
myself  went  out  on  the  platform  for  a  little  exercise.  I 
was  reading  a  book  and  kept  my  seat.  When  the  pas- 
sengers re-entered  the  car  as  the  train  started,  I  observed 
a  young  woman  who  had  a  seat  across  from  mine  turn- 
ing her  hand-satchel  wrong  side  out,  rapidly  looking 
under  and  around  her  other  belongings  and  appearing  to 
be  very  much  excited.  Pretty  soon  a  neighboring  woman 
a.sked  her  if  she  had  lost  anything.  She  replied  that  her 
purse  was  missing,  containing  her  ticket  from  Portland 
to  San  Francisco,  and  fifty  dollars  in  bills.  Then  others 
became  interested  in  her  misfortune,  took  the  cushions 
out  of  both  seats,  found  a  porter  and  had  him  search 
under  the  seats — all  without  avail. 

She  explained  that  just  before  going  out  on  the  plat- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  505 

form  she  had  put  her  purse  on  the  seat  by  the  side  of 
her  hat,  and  that  when  she  returned  it  was  gone.  At 
this  point  the  conductor  asked  her  if  anybody  remained 
in  the  car  while  she  was  out,  and  she  said,  pointing  to  me  : 

"Yes,  that  man  was  here  all  the  time,  I  think." 

At  this  the  conductor  turned  to  me  and,  with  a  look 
that  plainly  said,  "You  must  be  the  man,"  inquired  if  I 
had  seen  anybody  in  the  car  while  the  passengers  were 
out.  I  told  him  I  had  not.  that  I  had  been  busily  engaged 
reading  a  book,  and  that,  of  course,  some  one  might 
have  come  in  without  being  seen  by  me.  While  this  was 
taking  place  all  the  passengers  were  looking  directly  at 
me,  quite  sure,  doubtless,  that  I  had  "swiped"  the  lady's 
purse;  and  I  realized  that  I  was  the  very  picture  of 
guilt.  Thus  cornered,  with  all  appearances  dead  against 
me,  I  felt  like  jumping  out  of  the  window,  which  was 
raised,  but  concluded  to  wait  a  little  longer  before  doing 
anything  so  rash. 

A  little  sceptical  of  the  woman's  story,  the  conductor 
again  asked  her  if  she  was  sure  she  had  left  the  purse 
on  the  seat.  She  repeated  her  asseveration  that  she  had 
done  so.  At  this  the  crowd  again  turned  their  accusing 
looks  toward  me  and  I  was  just  ready  to  give  myself  up 
when  a  brakeman  entered  the  car.  carrying  a  purse  in 
his  hand,  and  asked  if  anybody  had  lost  it,  explaining 
that  he  saw  it  drop  from  a  woman's  hand,  or  belt,  as 
the  train  was  about  to  start  from  the  last  station  and  had 
picked  it  up. 

This  timely  entrance  of  the  brakeman  saved  my  life, 
covered  the  face  of  the  young  woman  with  blushes, 
brought  from  her  an  oft-repeated  apology  and  made  her 
the  butt  of  many  a  joke  between  there  and  Portland. 

She  and  I  became  quite  chatty  after  that,  but  I  still 
felt  somewhat  hurt  over  the  affair  until,  just  as  v/e  were 
entering  the  Portland  city  limits,  she  confidentially  told  me 
that  she  was  not  going  to  the  Philippines  to  teach  school, 
as  she  had  informed  all  of  us  several  times,  but  that  she 
wa<=;  going  to  meet  her  sweetheart  who  had  been  over 


5o6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

there  a  year — they  were  both  from  lUinois — and  that 
they  were  to  be  married  immediately  after  her  arrival. 
After  that  confession  I  of  course  fully  understood  the 
cause  of  her  rattled  state  of  mind  and  looked  upon  her 
with  the  utmost  pity,  knowing  that  her  complete  recovery 
was  but  a  matter  of  a  few  days — and  miles. 

During  four  years  of  the  last  ten  I  was  interested  in 
a  daily  newspaper,  serving  in  that  more  or  less  hazardous 
capacity  of  editor,  and  as  everybody  knows  there  is  no 
calling  follovv-ed  by  man  more  full  of  annoyances,  espe- 
cially when  the  literary  and  the  business  ends  of  the 
establishment  are  combined,  and  more  especially  if  it  is 
a  paper  which  permits  its  country  subscribers  to  pay  when 
they  get  ready. 

The  incident  I  am  about  to  relate  occurred  v/hen  I  had 
charge  of  the  Pendleton  Daily  Tribune.  When  I  entered 
upon  this  work  the  paper  had  delinquent  subscribers  not 
only  all  over  Umatilla  County  but  in  all  parts  of  eastern 
Oregon,  many  of  them  being  in  arrears  for  five  years. 
One  of  the  first  things  to  do,  I  decided,  was  to  send  out 
notices  to  these  individuals  informing  them  of  the  state 
of  affairs — that  printers  had  to  live,  that  the  cost  of 
living  was  high,  that  white  paper  had  to  be  paid  for,  that 
"it  cost  money  to  run  a  daily  paper."  and  that,  in  short, 
something  must  be  done,  and  that  as  the  Tribune  had 
been  sent  to  them  for  five  years  v/ithout  any  pay,  it  was 
not  asking  too  much  to  request  a  remittance — sell  a  calf 
or  a  peck  of  potatoes — anything — but  pay  up,  if  you 
please ! 

Everybody  who  knows  anything  about  the  newspaper 
business,  that  is.  the  kind  of  newspaper  business  of  which 
I  am  speaking,  understands  that  the  subscriber  who 
becomes  delinquent  for  one  and  two  years  always  feels 
that  he  has  been  personally  insulted  if  he  is  asked  to 
settle  the  bill.  The  exceptions  to  this  are  so  rare  as 
to  be  unworthy  of  mention. 

About  a  month  after  I  had  sent  out  these  polite  re- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  507 

minders,  a  rough-looking  old  customer  came  in  the  office 
and  without  vouchsafing  a  greeting  to  anybody,  said : 
"Here,  I  want  to  pay  up  and  stop  my  Weekly  Tribune." 
I  looked  around,  and  there  stood  a  man  with  as  for- 
bidding a  countenance  as  one  would  seldom  see  outside  a 
jail.  His  face  was  smoky,  his  hair  evidently  had  not 
been  combed  for  a  month  (and  then  slighted),  his 
whiskers  long,  tangled  and  one-sided,  collar  unfastened, 
and  his  general  appearance  that  of  a  Bad  Man  from  the 
Head  of  the  Creek !  His  manner  of  addressing  me  made 
me  angry,  for  that  had  been  a  hard  day  anyway.  There 
had  not  been  one  response  out  of  every  ten  sent  out  to 
the  delinquents,  and  four  out  of  five  of  those  who  paid 
up  ordered  the  paper  stopped.  There  had  been  two 
dozen  phone  calls  that  morning  asking  why  the  paper  had 
not  been  delivered — if  it  happened  again  they  would 
have  it  stopped  and  take  the  sheet  down  the  street  in- 
stead; a  linotypist  had  given  notice  that  he  intended  to 
quit,  and  there  was  no  other  in  town,  and  the  book- 
keeper was  sick  that  day — the  result  of  which  was  that 
I  was  in  no  humor  to  coddle  the  freak  who  stood  at  the 
counter  wanting  to  pay  up  and  stop  his  paper. 
So  I  said :     "All  right,  sir." 

The  fact  was  I  was  almost  glad  he  was  going  to  stop 
it.  I  felt  that  I  didn't  want  to  have  such  an  unprepos- 
sessing old  duffer  taking  so  good  a  paper  as  the  Tribune, 
and  I  wasn't  going  to  bandy  words  with  him.  I  found 
his  account,  told  him  how  much  it  was  and  he  paid  it. 
I  could  see  he  was  eyeing  me  very  closely,  but  I  knew 
he  was  doing  so  hoping  to  pick  a  quarrel — wanted  to 
shoot  me,  doubtless — and  I  would  not  thus  humor  such 
a  dastardly  galoot.  Patience  had  ceased  to  be  a  virtue 
and  I  would  assert  myself. 

As  the  man  folded  up  the  receipt,  he  said : 
"Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  why  I  stopped  my  paper?" 
This  was  just  the  chance  I  wanted,  so  I  hotly  said : 
"No,  sir,  I  would  not  give  a  whoop  in  the  great  here- 
after to  know  why  you  stopped  it.     I  don't  care." 
"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  anyhow.    A  neighbor  of  mine 


5o8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

takes  your  daily,  which  I  see  once  in  a  while,  and  I  like 
it  so  well  that  I  thought  I'd  stop  the  weekly  and  take 
the  daily.  I  want  to  pay  for  it  a  year  in  advance — if 
you'll  let  me !' 

Honesty  compels  me  to  admit  that  I  felt  so  very  mean 
and  contemptible  over  the  manner  in  which  I  had  treated 
the  old  fellow  that  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  apologize 
for  it.  for  to  have  suddenly  changed  my  demeanor  would 
not  have  looked  well ;  so  I  let  it  go  at  that,  preferring  he 
should  think  me  so  deeply  immersed  in  thought  con- 
nected with  my  editorial  duties  that  it  was  a  case  of  pure 
absent-mindedness.  I  became  better  acquainted  with 
him  after  that  and  found  he  was  a  really  fine  man  w^ho 
lived  on  a  splendid  ranch  up  about  Cabbage  Hill  some- 
where. 

Oh,  yes.  President  McKinley  was  right  in  his  remark 
that  it  is  not  always  safe  to  judge  from  outward  ap- 
pearances. 


CHAPTER  LXVII 

The  scenery  of  Oregon  in  its  grandeur  and  beauty  is 
unsurpassed  in  America,  and  therefore  in  the  world. 
This  is  true  largely  because  of  the  gigantic  scale  upon 
which  Nature  had  done  its  work  here.  A  waterfall  with 
a  descent  of  ten  feet  cannot  compare  in  beauty  with  the 
one  in  the  same  stream  two  miles  further  down,  which 
drops  a  sheer  hundred  feet  without  a  break.  This  is  a 
country  of  magnificent  distances  and  the  Almighty  has 
spread  with  lavish  hand  the  materials  for  glorious 
Nature  pictures  which  elsewhere  are  found  to  be  but  sug- 
gestions of  what  "might  have  been."  To  be  permitted  to 
spend  a  lifetime  in  Oregon  is  in  itself  a  generous  dispen- 
sation of  Providence  for  which  the  favored  one  should 
give  thanks  through  all  eternity. 

The  majestic  rivers,  the  snow-capped  mountains,  the 
magnificent  forests,  the  adjacent  Pacific,  the  fertile  soil, 
the  wonderfully  pleasant  climate,  the  pure  water — all 
these  combine  to  account  for,  if  not  to  justify,  the  remark 
of  an  old  Yamhill  County  farmer  who,  somewhat  skep- 
tically inclined,  said  to  me  a  year  ago,  apropos  of  the 
hereafter : 

"At  any  rate,  rather  than  take  any  chances,  if  I  had 
my  choice,  I  would  be  perfectly  willing  to  live  always 
and  pay  taxes  in  Yamhill  County." 

I  would  not  be  guilty  of  extravagance  in  describing 
anything  in  Oregon,  but  it  must  be  said  that  Portland 
is  the  most  beautifully  situated  city  in  the  United  States. 
None  other  compares  with  it.  It  occupies  the  center  of 
a  picture  which  has  Mt.  Hood  in  the  foreground,  its 
perpetually  snow-covered  peak  towering  to  the  clouds ;  the 
inspiring  Cascade  Range,  mantled  with  its  unbroken 
wealth  of  pine  and  Douglas  fir.  to  the  south ;  the  ''beau- 
tiful Willamette"  at  its  feet  and  the  lordly  Columbia, 

509 


5IO  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

bearing  its  tremendous  volume  of  clear  waters  gathered 
from  all  the  historic  Northwestern  Territory,  sweeping 
by  on  its  way  to  the  waiting  sea — these  combined  con- 
stitute a  wealth  of  beauty  which  all  the  gold  of  all  the 
world,  if  so  applied,  could  not  create  for  any  other  city. 

And  yet  kind  Nature,  with  prodigal  hand,  performed 
this  act  of  unparalleled  generosity  thousands  of  years 
before  the  coming  of  the  white  man,  countless  ages,  for 
aught  we  know,  before  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter 
was  discovered  hidden  in  the  mazes  of  the  kindly  bul- 
rushes ! 

For  instance,  Portland  has  a  park  on  the  Heights 
within  the  municipal  limits,  which  contains  all  the  wild 
and  romantic  scenery  one  could  find  in  a  two-days' 
journey  into  the  heart  of  the  Cascade  Mountains.  In 
this  park  are  preserved  all  the  native  trees,  shrubs  and 
flowers  which  abound  here  in  such  profusion — all  at  an 
elevation  of  a  thousand  feet  above  the  city  proper.  The 
wealth  of  the  earth,  if  devoted  to  the  purpose,  could  not 
reproduce  this  for  Chicago,  New  York  or  Baltimore,  for 
instance. 

And  there  stands  Mt.  Hood,  one  of  the  grandest  peaks 
in  the  world,  but  fifty  miles  away,  to  which  tourists  from 
Portland  now  go  and  return  in  automobiles  in  a  day,  and 
to  climb  to  the  summit  of  which  is  a  treat  so  great 
that  no  American  can  afford  to  die  without  enjoying  it. 
And  shall  I  describe  what  it  means  to  compass  this  great 
feat? 

The  summer  of  1900  was  passing  along  rapidly,  as 
summers  have  a  way  of  doing,  especially  as  you  get 
older,  and  a  bunch  of  us  had  not  yet  decided  where  we 
would  spend  our  vacation.  For  several  years  we  had 
formed  a  company  each  summer  and  shared  the  ex- 
penses and  joys  of  an  outing,  first  going  to  the  seaside, 
then  to  the  mountains,  until  we  were  quite  familiar  with 
most  of  the  resorts  which  make  Oregon  famous  for 
grand  scenery,  bracing  air  and  the  purest  of  water. 

One  day  Colonel  S.  C.  Spencer,  Judge  Advocate 
General  on  my  staff,  suggested  that  there  seemed  noth- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  511 

ing  the  matter  with  joining  the  Mazamas  and  climbing 
Mt.  Hood.  And  it  proved  a  popular  suggestion,  since 
upon  inquiry  it  was  discovered  that  none  of  us  had  ever 
made  that  w^onderful  ascent,  though  all  had  been  talking 
of  it  for  years.  Glowing  accounts  of  what  such  a  trip 
involved  in  the  way  of  difficulties  and  hair-breadth 
'scapes  were  familiar  to  us,  for  daring  men  and  women 
had  been  accomplishing  this  marvelous  feat  for  years 
and  arousing  a  feeling  of  envy  among  their  less  fortunate 
and  courageous  friends  by  recounting  their  experiences, 
their  hearers  plainly  revealing  more  or  less  skepticism  as 
the  narrative  proceeded. 

In  fact,  for  several  years  those  who  had  ascended  Mt. 
Hood  had  been  regarded  as  lineal  descendants  of 
Ananias,  the  evidence  of  which  appeared  in  cumulative 
proportions  as  their  accounts  of  what  they  saw  and  did 
were  given  with  increasing  enthusiasm  and  fluency. 

So  we  started  with  Mt.  Hood  and  the  summit  thereof 
as  our  destination,  accompanied  by  expectations  un- 
bounded and  a  fund  of  grit  which  knew  no  limit.  If  you 
have  never  climbed  a  snow-capped  extinct  volcano, 
towering  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
and  "viewed  the  landscape  o'er,"  you  have  never  yet 
taken  a  vacation  worth  telling  about  or  remembering  five 
minutes  after  it  was  over. 

We  left  Portland,  under  the  leadership  of  Colonel 
Hawkins,  who  had  already  made  the  climb  several  times, 
on  the  morning  of  the  first  of  August.  We  made  an 
even  dozen,  four  of  the  party  being  women.  These 
ladies  insisted  that,  being  the  wives  of  four  of  the  men, 
they  had  the  right  not  only  to  test  their  powers  of  en- 
durance, but  to  prove  the  veracity  of  some  of  their  ac- 
quaintances w^ho  had  preceded  them  in  this  wonderful 
climb  to  dizzy  heights  far  above  the  clouds. 

Leading  to  Mt.  Hood  from  Portland  is  a  good  road 
winding  through  the  beautiful  foothills  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains,  the  ridges  covered  by  a  dense  growth  of 
towering  firs  tw^o  hundred   feet  high,  while   far  below, 


512  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

like  silver  threads,  wind  the  Zigzag  and  the  Bull  Run, 
both  fresh  from  the  melting  snows. 

Several  of  our  party  rode  bicycles  to  within  six  miles 
of  the  point  where  the  first  approach  to  Mt.  Hood  takes 
on  a  more  rapid  ascent,  but  the  team  easily  reached 
Government  Camp  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day. 

After  a  day's  rest,  clad  in  bloomers — that  is.  some  of 
us — nailed  shoes,  sunbonnets  and  alpine  stocks,  we 
started  for  the  summit  on  the  morning  of  August  4  at 
three-thirty  o'clock.  After  a  climb  of  two  miles,  laborious 
in  the  extreme  on  account  of  the  lightness  of  the  atmos- 
phere, we  emerged  from  the  timber  and  encountered  the 
first  snow.  But  counteracting  this  was  the  indescribable 
sensation  of  exhilaration  experienced  on  finding  one's 
self  away  above  all  the  surrounding  country.  At  the 
snow  line  we  were  probably  six  thousand  feet  above  sea 
level,  with  another  six  thousand  feet,  much  of  it  almost 
perpendicular,  frowning  upon  us  like  a  monster  which 
was  at  once  alluring  and  beautiful.  The  snow  was  just 
yielding  enough  to  take  the  imprint  of  our  feet  and  in 
single  file  the  toiling  company  followed  the  guide.  Not 
more  than  two  dozen  yards  was  it  possible  to  climb  with- 
out resting  for  breath,  but  with  a  perseverance  that  was 
as  necessary  as  muscle  the  ascent  was  steadily  pursued. 

Half-way  to  the  summit  we  came  to  "Crater  Rock," 
a  half-acre  on  which  the  snow  never  lies  because  of  the 
'neat.  On  this  we  took  our  luncheon,  but  found  it  im- 
possible to  sit  at  all.  or  to  stand  long  in  one  place.  FroT.ji 
a  yawning  gulf  near  by  sulphuric  fumes  were  constantly 
issuing,  rendering  the  sandwiches  and  pickles  more  or 
less  suggestive  of  experiences  which  might  follow  on 
account  of  possible  stomach  disturbances — but  they  v/ere 
good  and  appreciated. 

From  Crater  Rock  the  climb  was  "fierce."  Steeper 
and  steeper  became  the  ridges  of  drifts,  resembling  huge 
house  tops  with  but  a  width  of  two  feet  upon  which  to 
walk,  while  below  us  the  precipitous  sides  seemed  to 
offer  a  fascination  for  a  toboggan  slide  which  would 


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FIFTY  YE:ARS  in  OREGON  513 

have  carried  us  to  certain  death.  And  these  narrow, 
snowy  ridges  were  themselves  almost  on  end,  thus  adding 
to  the  extreme  danger  attending  every  move. 

At  last,  when  within  a  thousand  feet  of  the  summit, 
we  came  to  the  great  Crevasse,  which  runs  along  the 
side  of  Old  Hood  for  a  half-mile  and  which  can  be 
plainly  seen  a  hundred  miles  away.  It  looked  like  some 
huge  scar  which  might  have  been  inflicted  during  the 
awful  upheaval  which  attended  its  creation  in  the  distant 
ages  past. 

At  this  point  we  were  compelled  to  creep  westward 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  until  we  found  a  narrow  place  where  we 
could  cross  in  safety,  after  which  we  proceeded  to  make 
the  last  ascent,  which  was  little  less  than  perpendicular. 
With  a  hatchet  our  guide  cut  footholds  in  the  icy  front, 
and  with  our  alpenstocks  we  then  rose  cautiously  from 
step  to  step,  the  while  holding  to  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain— for  in  this  perilous  situation  it  was  impossible  to 
stand  upright,  so  appalling  was  it  to  look  off  from  the 
mountain  into  distant  space.  Instinctively  one  clings  to 
the  mountainside  in  a  leaning  attitude — all  the  time  won- 
dering why  such  a  trip  was  undertaken  anyway. 

At  last  we  reached  the  summit  and  were  standing  on 
the  highest  square  foot  of  the  most  beautiful  snow- 
capped peak  in  America.  No  word-painter  can  ade- 
quately describe  the  grandeur  of  the  scene  which  greets 
the  eye  of  the  beholder  from  this  point — literally  stand- 
ing in  the  skies  and  on  solid  ground.  No  mere  listener 
or  reader  will  ever  understand  what  it  means  to  stand 
on  the  summit  of  Mt.  Hood.  It  was  of  such  a  sight  as 
this  that  Moses  doubtless  dreamed,  but  which  he  never 
saw. 

In  full  view  were  Mts.  Adams,  St.  Helens,  Ranier, 
Jefferson.  The  Three  Sisters  and  two  or  three  others 
farther  south  which  we  were  unable  to  name.  A  heavy 
sea  of  clouds  had  settled  over  all  the  country  to  the 
west  and  partly  to  the  north,  through  which  beautiful 
Helens  had  succeeded  in  thrusting  the  very  tip  of  her 
shining  peak,  reflecting  the  glorA-  of  the  declining  sun  : 


514  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

it  seemed  but  a  stone's  throw  away,  but  it  was  far  below 
us.  Adams  was  more  successful,  as  farther  to  the  north 
the  clouds  seemed  less  dense,  and  its  proud  contour  stood 
out  unobstructed  against  the  clearing  skies. 

To  the  south  and  west  the  view  was  beautiful  beyond 
description.  The  sea  of  fog  extended  well  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  and  in  its  undulating  silvery  whiteness,  tinged 
delicately  with  color,  one  could  easily  see  in  imagination 
the  veritable  ocean,  frozen  to  solidity  by  the  sudden 
gripping  of  King  Winter. 

The  sensation  resulting  from  standing  on  the  summit 
of  one  of  these  giant  peaks  is  difficult  of  description,  for 
it  puts  one  out  of  all  touch  with  the  natural.  Nature 
has  not  provided  for  this  sort  of  thing.  It  was  never 
intended  that  one  should  not  see  at  least  some  object  on 
a  level  with  himself  and  not  far  away;  but  here  one 
looks  straight  ahead  and  the  first  obstruction  is  Mt. 
JefTerson.  fifty  miles  to  the  south.  The  effect  on  the 
mind  and  nerves  as  you  stand  in  such  an  uncanny  place 
is  to  destroy  the  law  of  harmony,  or  of  proportion,  by 
which  we  are  surrounded  every  day.  We  never  see 
trees,  for  instance,  that  are  a  thousand  feet  high  and  four 
inches  in  diameter,  nor  any  a  foot  high  and  ten  feet  in 
diameter.  All  things  are  in  proportion.  But  as  you 
stand  at  an  altitude  of  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  wnth  everything  save  a  few  rods  square 
on  which  you  stand  dropping  away  from  you  at  an  angle 
of  forty-live  degrees  (and  much  of  it  faster),  and,  as 
you  look  straight  ahead  of  you  on  a  level,  the  nearest 
object,  save  one  or  two,  is  beyond  the  sight  of  mortal 
man,  you  w-ill  get  your  first  conception  of  the  mystery 
of  creation— of  time  and  eternity! 


CHAPTER  LXVIII 

Although  we  made  the  ascent  of  Mt.  Hood  on  August 
4  and  arrived  there  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  it 
was  so  cold  that  within  five  minutes  after  reaching  the 
top  icicles  had  formed  on  the  mustaches  of  several  of 
the  men. 

But  the  descent  of  the  mountain  was  a  continuous 
round  of  fun.  After  the  perilous  climb  down  to  the 
Crevasse,  more  dangerous  by  far  than  the  ascent,  the 
successive  snow-fields  were  descended  by  a  decidedly 
novel  process.  The  distance  it  required  nine  hours  to 
climb  was  descended  easily  in  three.  Here  is  where  the 
primitive  toboggan  slide  is  found  most  useful.  Every 
well-regulated  Mazama  provides  himself,  or  herself,  as 
the  case  may  be,  with  a  gunny-sack,  or  piece  of  carpet,  or 
oil-cloth,  or  any  other  article  supposed  to  be  waterproof 
(but  which  the  event  proves  is  never  so),  and  seated'on 
the  aforesaid  article,  the  alpenstock  gripped  under  one 
arm,  with  one  end  in  the  snow,  to  be  used  both  as  a 
rudder  and  a  brake,  the  start  is  made  and  the  bottom  of 
that  particular  slope  is  reached  in  ten  seconds,  no  matter 
how  far  it  may  be. 

This  is  possible  for  the  reason  that  in  the  afternoon 
the  snow  is  so  soft  that  your  tracks  are  from  two  to 
four  inches  deep,  and  you  cannot  be  possibly  injured, 
no  matter  how  swiftly  you  go  nor  in  what  position  you 
find  yourself  at  the  end  of  the  slide.  You  always  start 
in  a  sitting  posture,  with  your  feet  in  front,  of  course, 
but  no  man  with  a  reputation  as  a  prophet  would  risk 
it  by  guaranteeing  the  position  in  which  he  would  arrive 
at  the  terminus  of  the  slide. 

These  fields  vary  from  two  to  five  hundred  feet  in 
length,  but,  no  matter  what  the  distance,  you  get  to  the 
bottom  in  ten  seconds — not  necessarily  "right  side  up 

515 


5i6  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

with  care,"  but  you  will  "arrive"  amid  the  shouts  of 
your  companions  as  you  He  buried  in  a  snowdrift,  always 
unhurt.  The  first  slider  breaks  a  path  about  four  inches 
deep  and  as  wide  as  that  part  of  the  body  used  for  that 
purpose,  and  the  next  one,  of  course,  taking  the  same 
route,  makes  the  trip  in  much  less  time  than  his — or 
her — predecessor,  the  result  of  which  is  frequently  a 
mix  up  or  a  collision  which  adds  to  the  gaiety  of  the 
occasion. 

Two  years  after  this,  in  July,  1902.  my  wife  and  I 
joined  the  Mazamas  in  the  climb  of  Mt.  Adams,  fifty 
miles  north  of  the  Columbia  River  in  Washington. 
Adams  is  said  to  be  two  thousand  feet  higher  than  Hood, 
but  the  ascent  is  much  easier,  being  mainly  a  matter  of 
physical  endurance.  Falling  behind  the  other  members 
of  the  party,  who  appeared  to  be  bent  on  making  speed 
records,  my  wife  and  I  happened  to  fall  in  with  C.  E. 
Rusk,  who  was  spending  his  summer  on  and  around  that 
mountain,  and  he  kindly  offered  to  guide  us  to  the 
summit.  Mr.  Rusk  afterward  headed  a  party  that  visited 
Mt.  McKinley — in  1910 — and  fully  exploded  the  claim 
of  Dr.  Cook  that  he  had  planted  an  American  flag  on  the 
summit  of  that  great  northern  peak  by  his  graphic  de- 
scription in  the  Pacific  Monthly. 

Upon  reaching  the  very  top  of  this  magnificent  moun- 
tain, our  guide  led  the  way  to  the  edge  of  a  snowbank 
from  which  there  is  a  sheer  perpendicular  fall  of  five 
thousand  feet.  From  this  point  we  looked,  one  at  a 
time,  into  the  awful  depths  below  to  the  celebrated  Klick- 
itat glacier.  The  guide  told  us  that  in  the  month  of 
August  it  is  common  for  large  sections  of  this  snow  to 
"let  go,"  and  as  it  rushes  through  space  with  terrific 
velocity  it  can  be  heard  through  the  surrounding  country, 
causing  reverberations  resembling  a  thunder-storm.  For 
this  reason  the  Indians  call  Adams  "Thunder  Moun- 
tain." When  these  sections,  weighing  hundreds  of  tons 
each,  strike  the  rocks  below,  snow  spray  is  thrown  into 
the  air  for  hundreds  of  feet  in  every  direction. 

As  we  stood  on  this  precipice  listening  to  the  descrip- 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  517 

tion  of  the  playful  antics  in  which  it  sometimes  indulges, 
we  remembered  that  August  was  not  far  away  and  con- 
cluded that  it  was  much  safer  to  admire  Mt.  Hood,  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

One  of  the  interesting  discoveries  I  made  as  I  stood 
on  the  summit  of  Mt.  Adams  was  that  a  straight  line 
drawn  from  there  to  Mt.  Jefferson,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  away,  would  strike  the  eastern  slopes  of  Hood 
half-way  to  its  summit,  so  nearly  do  these  three  mon- 
archs  of  the  Cascade  Range  stand  in  line  with  one 
another. 

As  we  were  behind  the  main  party  of  the  climbers,  it 
was  well  toward  sundown  when  we  began  the  descent. 
When  half-way  down  the  mountain  Rusk  proposed  that 
he  leave  us  and  go  toward  his  own  camp.  As  we  could 
see  our  own  far  below  in  the  timber  line,  my  wife  and 
I  agreed  that  he  had  done  his  full  duty  by  us  and  he 
went  his  way.  We  would  not  have  risked  this,  except  that 
our  party  had  "left  their  mark"  as  they  descended  and 
we  thought  it  an  easy  matter  to  follow  that;  but  it  was 
much  farther  than  it  looked  and  it  began  to  get  dark 
while  we  w^ere  yet  far  up  the  mountain.  We  took  the 
toboggan  method,  of  course,  on  all  the  slopes,  but  upon 
reaching  the  head  of  one  of  them  we  had  our  first  real 
"blown-in-the-bottle"  scare.  The  top  of  this  incline  was 
so  steep  that  we  could  not  see  the  landing-place.  Our 
party  had  plainly  gone  down,  but  as  its  face  was  oval 
and  the  bottom  was  out  of  view,  we  had  no  proof  that 
they  had  not  all  been  killed.  We  were  really  staggered 
at  the  situation.  There  was  no  time  to  hunt  another 
route,  which  besides  would  have  been  dangerous  with 
our  inexperience.  Then.  too.  it  was  getting  dusk  and 
we  were  obliged  to  proceed.  Finally  I  said,  "Well,  here 
goes,"  and.  seating  myself  in  the  "chute"  left  by  the 
sliders  who  had  gone  down,  I  told  my  wife  not  to  wait 
too  long  before  following  me.    Then  I  let  go. 

Now,  I  have  often  read  about  the  expression  "flying 
through  space,"  but  this  was  my  first  experience.  Fifty 
others   had    preceded    me    in    that    narrow    track,    each 


5i8  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

making  the  surface  harder  and  smoother.  By  the  time 
we  arrived  the  air  was  below  the  freezing  point  and  it  was 
Hke  going  down  an  inclined  icicle.  It  was,  perhaps,  three 
hundred  feet  to  the  bottom,  and  if  I  had  been  racing 
against  greased  lightning  my  competitor  would  have  been 
shut  out  by  fully  half  that  distance.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  slope  was  a  level  bench,  as  there  is  at  the  bottom  of 
all  of  them,  and  into  a  bank  of  snow  I  went  feet  first 
to  a  distance  of  at  least  five  yards.  I  had  been  a  second 
and  a  half  in  transit  and.  finding  myself  entirely  unhurt 
and  the  sensation  so  genuinely  delightful,  being  devoid  of 
danger,  I  lay  there  shouting  at  the  top  of  my  voice  to 
my  wife  that  it  was  safe — that  she  should  "come  on." 

I  had  made  no  effort  to  extricate  myself,  so  great  was 
my  enjoyment  of  the  discovery  that  I  was  not  hurt,  when 
suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  above  me  in  the  greatest 
imaginable  excitement  calling  to  me: 

"Get  out  of  the  way!  Get  out  of  the  way!" 

At  once  I  knew  what  was  coming — it  was  one  hundred 
and  ninety  pounds  of  wife  traveling  in  my  unvacated 
orbit  and  due  to  arrive  at  once — which  it  did — and  the 
concussion  w^as  sufficient  to  have  sensibly  jarred  any 
object  less  firmly  attached  to  the  earth  than  Mt.  Adams 
itself.  This  impact  sent  me  ten  feet  farther  into  the 
snowbank,  but  as  it  was  very  soft,  and  as  it  w^as  a 
family  affair  anyway,  an  immediate  reconciliation  took 
place.  It  was  several  minutes,  however,  before  either  of 
us  tried  to  come  to  the  surface.  My  wife  afterwards 
explained  her  sudden  descent  by  saying  she  was  too 
terrified  to  remain  alone  even  a  minute. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  camp  and  we  found  the 
party  much  alarmed  for  our  safety,  but  as  "all's  well 
that  ends  well"  we  counted  it  one  of  our  most  interest- 
ing experiences. 

As  we  reached  the  first  summit  in  our  climb,  which  is 
eight  hundred  feet  below  the  highest  point,  we  met  the 
main  party  returning.  A  photographer,  who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  party,  requested  that  my  wife  and  I  "sit"  for 
a  picture,  which  we  did.     A  reproduction  of  the  photo- 


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FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  519 

graph,  with  Mr.  Rusk  near  by,  will  be  found  in  these 
pages.  We  were  pro\nded  with  sunbonnets  which  afford 
the  best  of  protection  against  the  intense  rays  of  the 
sun  which,  reflected  on  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  the 
snow,  cause  painful  sunburn. 

Does  it  pay  to  climb  to  the  summit  of  one  of  our 
snow-capped  mountains?  It  does.  To  live  above  the 
clouds,  if  but  for  a  moment,  is  worth  all  the  effort  it 
requires.  While  we  were  admiring  the  lofty  summit  of 
Hood,  directly  south  of  us  one  hundred  miles,  the 
clouds  slowly  moved  to  the  eastward  and  completely 
obscured  the  sunshine  from  the  Trout  Lake  valley,  fifteen 
miles  away.  We  were  several  hundred  feet  above  the 
clouds,  and  since  they  remained  some  distance  off  the 
mountain,  we  were  able  to  see  under  as  well  as  over 
them.  The  effect  of  this  sudden  transformation  was 
beautiful  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  describe.  It 
seemed  like  one  continuous  cloud  to  the  western  horizon, 
and  one  could  well  fancy  the  ocean,  while  in  one  of  its 
half-turbulent  moods,  frozen  into  a  sea  of  ice,  its  undu- 
lating surface  reflecting  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun 
in  all  the  gorgeous  colors  of  an  ultra-developed  rainbow. 
And.  looking  under  this  mid-afternoon  interloper,  every 
'  hamlet  in  the  Trout  Lake  valley  could  be  plainly  seen, 
with  the  lake  to  the  west — all  with  the  appearance  of 
moonlight  shadows,  so  exceedingly  dark  did  they  appear 
by  contrast  with  the  unusual  brightness  surrounding  the 
entranced  beholder. 

Such  visions  as  these,  with  the  inspiration  they  afford, 
never  gladden  the  eye  of  the  languid  citizen  who  believes 
that  the  effort  of  mountain  climbing  is  greater  than  the 
returns  justify.  Truly,  a  trip  to  the  summit  of  one  of 
our  grand,  snow^-covered  mountain  peaks  in  the  North- 
west furnishes  an  experience  well  worth  the  trouble  and 
hardships  it  involves.  The  sum  total  is  a  combination  of 
sport,  exercise  and  information,  a  quicker  and  stronger 
circulation,  an  added  appreciation  of  the  blessings  of 
life  and  increased  love  for  and  devotion  to  the  Creator 
whose  miracles  do  continually  hedge  us  about. 


CHAPTER  LXIX 

But  Oregon  is  so  full  of  interesting  places  that  one 
finds  a  pleasant  summer  resort  at  almost  every  turn. 
Not  only  to  the  snowy  peaks  and  to  the  beaches  do  its 
people  go  for  recreation  in  the  vacation  season,  but  to 
the  heart  of  its  mountain  ranges,  along  its  rivers,  and 
to  many  points  in  the  interior  where  an  elevation  of 
from  three  to  five  thousand  feet  affords  a  change  that 
is  delightful.  Even  in  the  Willamette  valley,  in  the 
midst  of  a  rich  and  thickly  settled  agricultural  section, 
are  hundreds  of  groves  of  native  firs  and  oaks  where  the 
heat  is  never  excessive,  splendid  water  abounds  and  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  mountains  and  the  coast  are 
abundantly  supplied  by  nature. 

Indeed,  one  of  the  most  attractive  spots  on  the  Pacific 
Coast  of  this  character  is  Gladstone  Park,  within  a  mile 
of  Oregon  City  and  ten  miles  of  Portland.  It  is  near 
the  Willamette  River  and  is  reached  by  the  main  line 
of  the  Southern  Pacific  and  by  the  electric  cars  from 
Portland.  Here  eminent  men  of  the  United  States,  men 
prominent  on  the  platform  in  all  the  professions,  lecture 
annually,  and  the  intellectual  treat  afforded,  together 
with  the  pleasures  and  benefits  of  an  outing,  supply  all 
the  wants  of  a  large  part  of  the  population  of  that  section 
f>f  Oregon  with  the  minimum  of  eft'ort  and  the  least  sac- 
rifice of  the  comforts  of  home  life. 

I  recall  a  most  delightful  ten  days  spent  at  Gladstone 
a  few  years  ago  when  Robert  J.  Burdette.  of  Los 
Angeles,  was  one  of  the  speakers.  His  wife  and  mine 
were  prominently  engaged  in  different  lines  of  work 
there  and  the  four  of  us  were  much  together.  I  had 
intended  to  go  to  Portland  some  day  that  week,  and  my 
wife  suggested  to  me  one  morning  that  I  go  on  that  par- 
ticular day,  since  she  and  Mrs.  Burdette  intended  to  en- 

520 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  521 

tertain  a  score  of  their  lady  friends  at  luncheon.  So  I 
went. 

When  I  returned  in  the  afternoon,  Burdette  said : 

''Well,  young  man,  you  don't  know  what  you  missed 
by  being  away  to-day.  I  dined  with  twenty  women,  and 
not  another  man  was  present." 

After  my  wife  had  explained  that  Burdette  and  I  were 
invited  to  join  the  company,  but  that  she  had  not  so 
understood  the  arrangement.  I  said  to  him: 

"Well,  how  did  you  make  it  with  so  many  women  on 
your  hands  and  no  male  assistance?" 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  "I  was  like  the  fellow  who  was 
engaged  to  the  Harrison  girl.  He  met  a  friend  one  day 
and  said  to  him,  'You  want  to  congratulate  me — I  am 
engaged  to  Ellen  Harrison.'  'What,'  said  his  friend, 
'one  of  those  twins?  Why,  nobody  on  earth  can  tell 
those  girls  apart — nobody  ever  did.  When  you  call  to 
see  Ellen,  how  do  you  manage  to  tell  'em  apart  ?'  'Why, 
I  don't  try,'  replied  the  self-satisfied  prospective  Bene- 
dict." 

One  afternoon  Burdette  and  I  were  sitting  in  front  of 
our  tent  discussing  men  and  things  when  we  drifted 
into  the  pleasant  pastime  of  repeating  such  quotations 
as  we  could  recall,  humorous  and  otherwise,  in  the  course 
of   which  I  said : 

"I  once  read  in  one  of  the  after-dinner  speeches  in 
Tom  Reed's  'Modern  Eloquence' — I  forget  who  made 
the  speech — this  verse,  w'hich  I  thought  was  particularly 
good: 

A  famous  American  preacher 

Said  "the  hen  is  a  beautiful  creature," 

And  the  hen  just  for  that 

Laid  an  egg  in  his  hat 

And  thus  did  the  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 

At  this  recitation  we  both  laughed  in  appreciation  of  a 
really  good  thing.  I  thought,  however,  Burdette  was  a 
little  lame  in  his  manifestation  of  mirth  over  the  humor 
of  the  verse,  but  I  merely  said: 


522  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"That  is  a  very  clever  thing.  I  wonder  who  is  the 
author  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  he,  with  a  perceptible  degree  of  em- 
barrassment, "the  fact  is,  I  wrote  that  when  I  was  editor 
of  the  Burlington  Hawkeye  some  twenty  years  ago.  Do 
you  like  it?" 

And  Gladstone  Park  is  only  one  of  many  resorts. 
Ashland,  in  Jackson  County,  near  the  California  line, 
has  its  annual  Chatauqua  exercises  in  one  of  the  finest 
natural  groves  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  on  the  slopes  of  the 
Siskiyou  Mountains,  which  overlook  the  famous  Rogue 
River  valley,  famous  for  its  peaches,  pears  and  grapes ; 
Grant's  Pass,  cozily  situated  in  the  heart  of  a  beautiful 
chain  of  mountains  on  the  Rogue  River,  is  a  famous 
resort  within  itself;  Roseburg,  located  on  the  historic 
Umpqua  River,  has  a  climate  which  is  unsurpassed  any- 
where and  its  people  are  prosperous  and  comfortable ; 
Eugene,  the  seat  of  the  University  of  Oregon,  has  its 
Coast  connections  at  Siuslaw  and  its  famous,  health- 
giving  Mackenzie  River  resorts  back  toward  Crater 
Lake;  Corvallis,  with  its  popular  Agricultural  College,  a 
little  city  which  boasts  of  having  "the  biggest  college  and 
the  smallest  jail  in  Oregon,"  the  "college  always  being 
full  and  the  jail  empty,"  is  on  the  road  to  Newport  on 
the  Yaquina  Bay,  one  of  the  most  popular  beach  resorts 
in  the  State;  Albany,  with  its  own  Chatauqua  and  the 
Calipooia  Mountains  not  far  away,  full  of  ozone  in  the 
heated  season ;  Salem,  the  State  capital,  the  most  beau- 
tiful "home  city"  to  be  found  anywhere,  is  within  easy 
reach  of  Silver  Creek  Falls.  Mehama  and  other  moun- 
tain resorts  that  have  been  liberally  patronized  for  forty 
years ;  Oregon  City,  the  oldest  town  in  Oregon,  aside 
from  Astoria,  has  the  famous  Willamette  River  Falls, 
beautiful,  and  harnessed  to  contribute  to  the  comfort  of 
mankind ;  Portland,  known  over  all  America  as  the  City 
of  Roses,  destined  to  become  in  the  near  future  the 
largest  on  the  Pacific  Coast  and  itself  a  summer  resort; 
La  Grande,   situated   in  that  most  attractive  gem,   the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  523 

Grand  Ronde  valley,  with  its  adjacent  Blue  Mountains 
and  the  near-by  Hot  Lake ;  Baker  City,  with  its  elevation 
of  three  thousand  five  hundred  feet,  located  at  the  point 
where  Powder  River  enters  the  splendid  valley  of  the 
same  name,  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Auburn  IMoun- 
tains  on  the  w^est  and  those  of  Eagle  Creek  on  the  east — 
always  covered  with  snow;  Medical  Springs,  owned  for 
forty-five  years  by  that  prince  of  pioneers  and  good 
fellow^s,  Dunham  Wright,  where  the  water  boils  out  of 
the  ground  hot  enough  to  cook  an  egg  in  four  minutes ; 
Pendleton,  that  inland  city  noted  for  the  hustle  and  rustle 
of  its  business  men,  the  capital  of  Umatilla  County, 
which  every  year  produces  one  per  cent  of  all  the  wheat 
raised  in  the  entire  United  States,  namely,  five  million 
bushels,  which  has  its  Meachem,  Wenaha  Springs  and 
other  delightful  mountain  resorts  such  as  only  the  Blue 
Mountains  can  boast — all  these,  gentle  reader,  and 
hundreds  more,  are  to  be  found  in  Oregon. 

And,  then,  there  is  Astoria,  at  the  mouth  of  the  ma- 
jestic Columbia,  six  miles  wide  at  this  point  affording 
a  full  view  out  to  the  sea,  with  nothing  to  interfere  with 
one's  looking  directly  into  the  heart  of  the  Flowery 
Kingdom  save  the  limitations  of  one's  visual  powers — ■ 
Astoria,  where  the  most  extensive  fisheries  on  the  Pacific 
Coast  are  located  and  where  each  year  more  than  one 
million  dollars'  worth  of  the  famous  Chinook  salmon  is 
caught,  packed  and  shipped  to  the  waiting  markets  of 
every  civilized  country  on  earth.  And  Seaside,  Gear- 
hart,  Ocean  Park.  Tillamook,  the  last  a  most  prosperous 
section  of  the  State  where  everybody  is  a  dairyman — 
or  w^oman — and  where  hard  times  have  never  been 
known ;  Coos  Bay,  a  delightful,  and  also  most  promising 
and  enterprising,  section  of  the  State,  rich  in  resources 
and  as  yet  in  the  infancy  of  its  development;  Klamath 
Falls,  Lakeview,  Burns,  Ontario,  Prineville  and  all  the 
new  towns  of  central  Oregon,  which  is  just  now  beginning 
its  industrial  life  through  the  impetus  of  two  new  lines 
of  railroads  projected  into  it — these  afford  an  attraction 
and  opportunity  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  who, 


524  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

for  the  lack  of  them,  are  leading  sordid  and  discontented 
lives  elsewhere. 

In  all  this  vast  section  I  have  named — and  I  have  fre- 
quently visited  every  portion  of  it — there  are  no  extremes 
of  climate,  either  of  heat  or  cold.  In  all  my  life  I  have 
seen  neither  a  cyclone  nor  a  thunder-storm  such  as 
Eastern  people  have  described  to  me.  I  have  never 
known  a  case  of  sunstroke  nor  seen  a  person  with  the 
ague. 

For  forty  years  "Uncle  Charley"  Benson  was  one  of 
the  best  known  farmers  in  Marion  County.  He  was  a 
typical  pioneer,  a  famous  hunter,  and  nobody  ever  saw 
him  wearing  a  coat  or  vest.  After  having  lived  in 
Oregon  for  thirty  years  he  visited  one  summer  his  sister 
in  Iowa,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  she  was  a  small 
girl.  Upon  his  arrival  at  her  home,  when  bedtime  ar- 
rived, explaining  that  they  were  liable  at  any  time  to 
be  visited  by  a  cyclone,  she  showed  him  the  "cyclone 
cellar" — a  dug-out  affair  near  by.  She  also  told  him 
that,  if  he  heard  them  calling  in  the  night,  to  understand 
at  once  what  was  the  matter  and  make  a  "bee  line"  for 
the  cellar. 

He  said  upon  his  return  home  that,  after  sweltering, 
totally  devoid  of  any  clothing,  until  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  on  account  of  the  almost  unbearably  oppres- 
sive heat,  he  had  fallen  asleep  when  a  loud  shouting 
down-stairs  awoke  him.  Frightened  out  of  his  wits,  he 
went  down  three  steps  at  a  time,  intending  to  go  to  the 
cellar.  It  was  very  dark,  however,  and  being  a  stranger, 
he  lost  his  way  and  landed  in  a  cistern,  made  by  scooping 
out  the  surface  of  the  ground  for  a  few  yards  square, 
in  which  rain-water  was  caught  and  saved  for  domestic 
uses.  By  this  time  the  storm  had  broken  in  all  its  fury 
and  "Uncle  Charley,"  being  afraid  to  change  his  loca- 
tion, remained  in  the  water  up  to  his  chin,  squatted  down 
like  a  bullfrog,  with  his  head  only  protruding. 

It  was  all  over  in  twenty  minutes,  and  the  family, 
discovering  that  "Uncle  Charley"  was  not  in  the  cellar, 
decided  he  had  not  awakened.     They  vrere  not  much 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  525 

alarmed,  since  it  proved  to  be  merely  an  ordinary  "blow." 
When  the  family  reunion  occurred  at  the  close  of  the  dis- 
turbance, and  "Uncle  Charley,"  tapping  at  the  front 
door,  had  related  his  experience  and  explained  his 
mistake — his  sister  in  the  meantime  bringing  his  clothing 
to  him — he  said  he  had  had  enough;  that  he  was  more 
than  delighted  to  have  seen  his  folks  again,  that  they 
had  talked  over  all  the  matters  of  interest,  he  guessed, 
and  that  he  would  start  back  to  Oregon  the  next  day. 
And  he  did! 

Oregon  has  an  area  of  ninety- five  thousand  square 
miles,  with  a  population  of  less  than  three-quarters  of  a 
million.  If  it  had  as  many  people  as  Massachusetts,  ac- 
cording to  landed  area,  its  population  would  be  at  least 
thirty  million — and  there  is  no  comparison  betw'een  the 
two  States  in  the  matters  of  natural,  agricultural  and 
other  resources.  Our  greatest  need  is  people — of  the 
right  sort.  These  we  are  getting,  by  degrees,  and  never 
so  rapidly  as  now,  as  conditions  here  are  becoming  better 
known  in  the  Eastern  States,  and  even  in  foreign  coun- 
tries. We  have  depended  upon  private  enterprise  alto- 
gether for  the  dissemination  of  the  attractions  which 
Oregon  presents  to  the  home-seeker,  the  State  never 
having  engaged  in  advertising  its  own  advantages  to 
the  home-builder  or  the  capitalist. 

The  Legislature  did,  indeed,  a  few  years  ago  authorize 
the  appointment  by  the  Governor  of  a  Board  of  Im- 
migration, but  as  it  appropriated  no  money  with  which 
to  prosecute  its  duties,  it  fell  by  the  wayside.  I  recall 
that  in  selecting  its  five  members  I  afterward  discovered 
that  they  were  all  Republicans.  This,  of  course,  was  un- 
intentional, and  as  the  appointees  had  not  yet  been  an- 
nounced, I  wrote  to  William  M.  Colvig,  of  Jacksonville, 
that  I  was  desirous  of  appointing  him  on  the  new  Board 
of  Immigration,  principally  because  I  was  hunting  for 
a  good  Democrat  who  would  not  shirk  the  responsibilities 
of  the  position.  Colvig,  besides  being  a  very  able  lawyer, 
is  a  born  wag,  and  in  his  reply  of  acceptance  said : 


526  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

"With  pleasure  I  will  accept  your  appointment  and 
will  so  far  try  to  fulfill  your  expectations  of  me  that 
within  two  years  I  hope  to  secure  the  immigration  of 
five  thousand  Missouri  Democrats,  not  only  because  they 
would  make  splendid  citizens,  but,  if  possible,  I  want 
to  change  the  political  complexion  of  this  black  Repub- 
lican State." 

The  joke  was  finally  on  Colvig,  however,  for  the  stand 
the  Democratic  party  soon  afterward  took  on  the  ques- 
tion of  expansion  caused  him  to  become  a  Republican 
on  national  questions,  and  his  threatened  inroad  on  the 
Missouri  Democracy  was  never  carried  into  effect. 


CHAPTER  LXX 

On  these  closing  lines  my  pen  lingers.  Leaning  back 
in  my  chair,  with  hands  clasped  behind  my  head,  I  look 
backward  over  a  busy  life  of  fifty  years,  and  in  rapid 
succession  there  passes  before  my  memory's  vision  a 
long  line  of  men  and  women  whom  I  have  known,  and 
who  during  that  time  have  joined  the  caravan  that  moves 
on  to  the  Great  Beyond.  Many  of  them  were  actively 
engaged  in  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  near  neighbors 
in  the  different  portions  of  dear  old  Oregon  in  which  I 
have  lived,  pursuing  their  daily  vocations  in  an  unpre- 
tentious way,  but  contributing  to  the  upbuilding  of  their 
communities  and  to  the  betterment  of  mankind.  I  have 
spent  forty-five  years  of  my  life  in  my  native  county  of 
Marion,  ten  in  Union,  two  in  Umatilla,  and  three  in  Mult- 
nomah. In  each  of  these  I  have  made  a  host  of  ac- 
quaintances— and  friends.  I  trust;  beside  which  I  have 
campaigned  in  every  county  in  the  State,  in  most  of  them 
several  times — all  of  which  has  given  me  a  personal 
acquaintanceship  throughout  the  State  equaled,  perhaps, 
by  no  other  man.  After  all  these  years  of  striving,  meet- 
ing with  successes  and  disappointments,  starting  when 
a  child  without  friends  or  assistance,  save  such  as  I  could 
win  by  personal  effort,  and  finally  reaching  a  position 
of  trust  and  honor  bestow^ed  by  the  people  upon  eleven 
men  only  in  more  than  fifty  years  of  Statehood,  I  am 
passing  toward  the  downward  slope  of  life,  along  with 
my  fellows,  with  no  regret  and  without  malice  toward 
a  single  individual  on  earth.  A  few  have  done  me  great 
injustice,  but  that  rests  between  them  and  their  Maker. 
I  cannot  afford  to  spoil  a  single  moment  of  my  life  by 
the  retention  of  malice  or  a  spirit  of  hatred. 

I  could  wish,  if  to  do  so  were  not  idle,  that  I  had  been 
born  yesterday  and  had  a  life  of  eighty  years  of  health 

527 


528  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

vouchsafed  me  in  which  to  ])e  a  witness  of  the  marvelous 
development  of  this  country.  From  the  tallow  candle 
era  to  that  of  electric  lights  is  a  "far  cry."  and  yet  I  have 
seen  the  change.  I  remember  the  first  mower  ever 
brought  to  the  Willamette  valley — imported  by  William 
J.  Herren  of  Salem.  I  recall  the  first  self-rake  reaper, 
and,  after  that,  the  Marsh  harvester,  which  carried  two 
men  who  did  the  binding.  Afterward  came  the  self- 
binders,  using  wire,  which  were  burned  in  the  fields  in 
many  States  by  men  who  claimed  they  were  the  work 
of  the  devil,  intended  to  deprive  workingmen  of  that 
employment  upon  which  they  depended  for  the  support 
of  their  families!  Then  came  the  telephone,  enabling 
men  to  transact  a  thousand  times  more  lousiness  each 
day  than  was  previously  possible.  The  Oregon  pioneers 
were  six  months  crossing  the  plains  with  their  ox  teams ; 
now  it  is  a  common  report  that  some  man  has  "flown" 
from  France  to  England,  and  the  trip  to  Chicago  from 
New  York  is  patterned  after  the  manner  of  the  birds 
of  the  air — it  is  made  "as  the  crow  flies."  The  Oregon 
pioneers  have  lived  through  this  era  of  rapid  develop- 
ment until  to-day  the  State  enjoys  all  the  advantages  to 
be  found  in  Ohio  or  Vermont. 

And  what  shall  be  the  future  of  this  Oregon  of  ours? 
What  development  shall  it  see?  The  character  of  its 
soil  and  climate  is  so  varied  that  the  seeker  after  a  new 
home  can  surely  be  satisfied  with  some  section  of  it.  If 
he  wishes  to  enter  the  ranks  of  the  stock-raiser,  he  can 
find  what  he  wants  on  the  plains  of  eastern  or  south- 
eastern Oregon  and  in  the  foothills  adjoining;  if  his 
inclination  be  towards  fruit  raising,  there  is  splendid 
land  adapted  to  that  purpose  in  practically  every  part  of 
the  State,  east,  west,  north  or  south ;  if  he  is  looking  for  a 
country  where  he  can  gratify  his  wish  to  become  a 
dairyman,  he  can  be  accommodated  anywhere  in  western 
Oregon  or  along  the  Coast  counties  from  the  Washing- 
ton hue  to  the  northern  boundary  of  California, — not  to 
speak  of  opportunities  equally  good  in  many  parts  of 
eastern   Oregon;    if   he  be   a   fisherman,   he   can   locate 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  529 

almost  anywhere  along  the  Pacific  Coast  and  find  what 
he  is  seeking;  if  he  be  a  miner,  there  are  several  counties 
where  millions  of  gold  yet  remain  to  be  unearthed;  if 
a  lumberman,  here  he  will  find  the  best  body  of  standing 
timber,  and  the  largest  in  area  at  this  time  remaining 
imtouched,  in  the  United  States;  and  if  he  be  a  retired 
capitalist,  desiring  to  spend  his  remaining  days  in  the 
enjoyment  of  an  equa1)le  climate  the  year  round,  here 
he  will  find  ideal  conditions  arranged  by  thoughtful 
nature. 

The  first  word  of  this  book  was  written  March  12 
and  I  am  closing  this  chapter  on  August  8.  With  other 
duties  demanding  my  attention  much  of  the  time,  it  has 
been  a  summer  pleasantly  employed.  The  composition 
of  the  book  has  naturally  recalled  many  experiences 
which  I  had  partly  forgotten,  and  I  have,  in  a  certain 
sense,  re-lived  my  life — in  memory.  Pleasures  and 
sorrows  have  alternately  fiitted  by  with  kaleidoscopic 
rapidity,  but  I  have  dwelt  lightly  upon  the  latter,  since  a 
busy  world  cares  little  for  the  personal  troubles  of  any 
man.  The  narrative  w^ould  be  imperfect,  however,  if  I 
did  not  record  the  death  of  my  first  wife,  the  mother 
of  my  children,  October  13,  1898.  It  occurred  in  Omaha, 
v/here  we  were  attending  the  Exposition,  our  objective 
point  being  a  visit  to  her  old  home  in  Missouri,  which 
she  had  not  seen  since  leaving  it  in  1864.  vShe  had  been 
an  invalid  for  ten  years,  but  it  was  thought  she  was 
strong  enough  to  m.ake  the  journey.  An  asthmatic  attack, 
however,  together  with  the  change  of  climate,  was  more 
than  her  w^eakened  condition  could  withstand  and,  two 
thousand  miles  from  the  children  she  loved  so  devotedly, 
and  with  no  blood  relative  present  save  a  sister,  her  spirit 
was  called  away  to  that  fairer  land  whose  existence  she 
never  doubted. 

In  May,  1907,  my  second  great  sorrow^  came  in  the 
death  of  my  oldest  daughter,  after  a  brief  illness.  She 
was  a  lovely  woman  who  had  everything  to  live  for — 
a  devoted  husband,  a  legion  of  friends,  a  beautiful  home. 


530  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

To  this  affliction  I  cannot  become  reconciled  by  any  sort 
of  reasoning  that  places  the  responsibility  on  a  'Visita- 
tion of  Divine  Providence."  This  daughter  was  the 
child  who  corresponded  with  me  regularly,  and  for 
fifteen  years  we  had  written  to  each  other  giving  the 
day  upon  which  we  heard  the  first  mourning  dove,  in 
whose  doleful  call  we  felt  a  strange  mutual  pleasure. 

On  a  bright  May  morning,  as  the  rising  sun  gave  new 
life  and  promise  to  the  bountiful  earth,  while  smiling 
and  talking  to  those  she  loved  so  well,  and  while  I  held 
her  hand,  her  spirit  took  its  flight.  In  an  instant  she 
was  a  comforting  memory  only. 

Her  lifeless  remains  were  taken  back  to  the  home  of 
her  early  childhood  and  young  womanhood — to  the 
beautiful  Waldo  Hills;  and  while  the  birds  were  singing 
their  songs  in  the  glad  sunlight,  and  the  doves  were 
cooing  their  mournful  refrains  in  the  nearby  trees  under 
which  she  had  played  during  so  many  hours  of  her  happy 
childhood,  her  mortal  remains  were  laid  away  until  the 
resurrection  morn.  The  world  has  since,  in  a  measure, 
seemed  a  lonely  place,  but  the  severance  of  such  a  tie — 
and  countless  millions  have  experienced  it — illustrates 
how  little,  after  all.  we  understand  the  miracle  of  Life 
or  the  mystery  of  Death. 

Believing  that  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  live  alone, 
on  June  14.  1900,  I  was  married  to  Miss  Isabelle  Trul- 
linger,  of  Astoria,  the  daughter  of  an  Oregon  pioneer 
of  1848.  Her  father,  John  C.  Trullinger.  was  one  of 
the  first  men  to  engage  extensively  in  the  manufacture 
of  lumber  in  Astoria — in  1875 — and  was  a  member  of 
the  Legislature  in  1893  from  Clatsop  County;  men- 
tion of  him  has  already  been  made  in  these  pages.  He 
was  a  very  enterprising  man.  establishing  the  first  electric 
light  plant  in  that  city  and  afterward  purchasing  the 
gas  plant.  His  father.  Daniel  Trullinger,  was  a  minister 
in  the  Christian  Church,  was  a  neighbor  of  my  Grand- 
father Eoff  in  Iowa,  and  arrived  in  Oregon  in  October, 
1848.  just  in  time  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  for 
mv  father  and  mother. 


o 

CO 


bo 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  53.1 

The  eleven  years  succeeding  June  14,  1900,  have  con- 
stituted a  continuous  season  of  domestic  bliss — a  honey- 
moon which  shows  no  sign  of  termination.  Every 
moment  of  our  married  life  has  been  ideal,  largely 
because  the  other  member  of  this  firm  has  measured  up 
to  every  qualification  of  an  ideal  wife;  and,  since  she 
does  not  know  I  am  paying  her  this  deserved  tribute,  I 
will  dare  to  say  that,  she  being  fully  six  feet  in  height,  I 
often  declare  my  appreciation  of  her  many  good  qualities 
by  saying  that  an  experience  of  eleven  years  of  married 
life  has  shown  her  to  be  "all  wool  and  two  yards  long." 

And  may  I  prove  to  be  worthy  of  her  while  life  lasts! 

In  reviewing  my  fifty  years  in  Oregon — fifty  years  of 
strenuous  activity — I  often  wonder,  after  the  manner  of 
most  men  who  have  reached  sixty  years,  if  I  could  have 
spent  them  to  better  advantage.  Looking  backward,  I 
think  I  could,  and  yet — again  like  most  other  men — at 
each  turn  in  my  affairs  I  did  what  seemed  best  at  the 
time  and,  realizing  that  regrets  are  useless,  I  cast  them 
aside  and  look  hopefully  to  the  future. 

There  are  few  men  who  do  not  frankly  regret  they 
did  not  follow  some  other  calling  than  that  which  they 
chose.  At  this  moment  I  recall  a  passage  in  a  splendid 
address  delivered  by  the  State  Superintendent  of  Public 
Instruction  of  New  York  in  the  "Hall  of  Congress"  at 
the  St.  Louis  Exposition.  The  substance  of  it  was  as 
follows : 

A  boy  who  had  lived  on  a  farm  all  his  life  was  taken 
to  a  city  for  the  first  time  by  his  father  when  he  was  ten 
years  old.  While  there  he  saw  a  messenger  boy  dressed 
in  a  uniform,  and  when  he  went  home  he  was  miserable 
because  he  envied  that  city  boy  and  thought  he  would 
give  anything  to  exchange  places  with  him. 

That  night  that  messenger  boy,  after  he  went  to  bed, 
was  very  miserable  because  he  wanted  to  be  a  clerk  in  a 
store,  for  he  had  a  chum  who  had  such  a  position,  and 
he  was  filled  with  envy, 

Btit  that  clerk  was  miserable  as  he  closed  his  day's 


532  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

work,  for  he  envied  the  merchant  for  whom  he  worked 
— he  had  a  carriage  and  fine  team  and  rode  about  the 
city  a  great  deal. 

And  that  night  the  merchant  lost  two  hours'  sleep 
worrying  because  he  wanted  to  be  a  banker — one  of  his 
best  friends  was  a  banker  and  he  had  a  mighty  fine  time 
every  day. 

And  that  very  night  the  banker  was  in  his  office  late 
at  night  trying  to  "keep  tab"  on  his  business  and  was 
miserable  as  he  went  home  because  he  wanted  to  be  a 
big  trust  magnate,  whose  wealth  was  so  enormous  that 
he  was  not  obliged  to  look  after  details — he  wanted  to 
be  a  multi-millionaire. 

But  that  night  there  was  one  of  the  largest  steel  manu- 
facturers in  the  city,  an  intimate  acquaintance  of  the 
banker,  who  was  w^orth  a  dozen  millions,  and  he  was 
vainly  endeavoring  to  get  some  sleep  as  he  worried  over 
"a  thousand  and  one  things"  which  demanded  his  atten- 
tion and.  satiated  with  all  the  pleasures  that  wealth  could 
supply,  he  thought  he  would  give  it  all,  and  ten  times 
more,  if  he  had  it.  to  be  a  barefoot  boy  and  back  on  the 
farm  again ! 

It  is  quite  common  to  hear  a  man  who  has  reached 
the  age  of  fifty  years  say,  ''How  time  flies!  It  seems 
but  yesterday  since  I  was  a  boy" ;  but,  though  the  days 
and  weeks  appear  to  pass  quickly,  when  I  forget  the 
intervening  years,  it  seems  that  it  might  be  a  century 
since  those  days  in  the  Waldo  Hills  when  my  sister  and  I 
played  in  the  log  cabin  on  the  Donation  Land  Claim, 
and  I  rescued  the  family  spoon  from  under  the  kitchen 
floor  as  a  daily  task. 

As  I  approach  the  last  few  paragraphs  of  this  book, 
the  writing  of  which  has  occupied  most  of  my  time  for 
five  months,  and  during  which  my  mind  has  largely 
dwelt  upon  the  men  I  have  known,  the  things  I  have 
done,  the  different  places  in  which  I  have  lived,  my 
association  with  other  people — all.  of  course,  in  the  past 
— it  is  but  natural  at  this  moment  that  my  entire  life 
should  rise  before  me  as  a  composite  picture.     In  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  533 

foreground  and  background  stand  out  prominently  the 
beloved  Waldo  Hills  in  Marion  County,  than  which,  as 
the  beholder  stands  on  one  of  the  highest  knolls  on  the 
Waldo  homestead,  no  prettier  panorama  is  presented 
in  all  the  magnificent  stretches  in  American  scenery. 

As  before  related,  my  father  moved  from  his  home  in 
that  section  in  1855,  and  in  all  his  changes  in  life,  though 
he  never  lived  elsewhere  than  in  Oregon,  he  never  saw 
the  place  again  for  nearly  fifty  years.  In  September, 
1902,  he  was  visiting  me  in  Salem,  and  while  talking 
over  old  times  referred  to  this  fact.  Indeed,  though  I 
had  always  known  where  the  farm  was,  having  spent 
most  of  my  life  within  five  miles  of  it,  I  never  knew 
precisely  where  our  old  house  stood. 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  that  L.  B.  Geer,  a 
cousin,  proposed  that  we  drive  out  the  next  Sunday  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  Abner  Lewis,  a  farmer  who  had 
lived  on  an  adjoining  farm  all  these  years,  determine 
just  how  far  my  father's  memory  was  in  accordance 
with  the  fact. 

This  we  did.  After  walking  across  Lewis's  field,  we 
came  in  sight  of  a  broad  creek  bottom  on  the  opposite 
side  of  which  had  once  been  my  father's  cabin — just  at 
the  beginning  of  the  ascending  slope.  Here  we  all 
stopped.  After  studying  the  scene  presented,  my  father 
said : 

"Well,  over  there  where  that  bunch  of  willows  is 
growing  there  must  be  a  spring,  and  there  was  a  spring, 
and  a  mighty  good  one,  a  few  yards  from  the  house." 

Lewis  said  he  w-as  right — that  it  was  the  identical 
spring — and  we  walked  around  to  it — a  half-mile. 

Arriving  there,  Lewis  asked  my  father  to  locate  the 
exact  spot  w^here  the  house  once  stood.  The  land  was  all 
in  cultivation  to  the  very  edge  of  the  willows  by  the 
spring,  and  as  the  field  was  fallow  that  summer,  a  dense 
growth  of  fern  covered  the  ground.  My  first  effort  was 
to  find,  if  I  could,  a  piece  of  broken  dish,  for  there 
never  was  an  abandoned  building  spot  on  earth  where, 


534  FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON 

even  fifty  years  afterward,  there  could  not  be   found 
pieces  of  broken  dishes — always  blue  dishes,  at  that. 

My  search  was  rewarded  by  the  discovery  of  three 
such  souvenirs,  which  I  sent  afterward  to  my  mother 
in  California.  In  a  letter  received  in  return  she  expressed 
her  joy  at  the  present  and  easily  recalled,  as  any  woman 
could,  the  cups  and  saucers  which  my  father  had  bought 
in  Oregon  City  at  the  time  of  their  wedding,  in  October, 
1848! 

While  I  was  prowling  around  in  the  fern  I  was  also 
looking  for  some  broken  bricks,  for  they  are  as  sure  to 
be  found  where  an  old  residence  has  formerly  stood  as 
are  broken  dishes.  Soon  I  found  a  brickbat,  some  three 
inches  in  diameter,  and,  with  my  foot  covering  it,  I  said : 

"Father,  did  you  have  any  brick  in  the  old  house?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  very  promptly,  "no  brick." 

But  after  a  moment  he  said : 

"Oh,  yes,  we  did,  too.  Yes,  I  remember  that  I  bor- 
rowed a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  wagon  of  Dan  Waldo  and 
drove  to  the  King  Hibbard  place  and  got  a  hundred  brick 
which  I  had  helped  make  the  year  before — brick  that  he 
gave  me  because  they  were  burnt  too  hard  to  sell  well. 
Yes.  come  to  think  of  it,  I  had  a  hundred  brick." 

He  was  standing  by  me  at  the  time,  and  after  he  had 
recalled  the  incident  I  said,  lifting  my  foot  from  the 
piece  it  covered : 

"Does  this  look  like  one  of  them?" 

Upon  seeing  it.  he  picked  it  up  eagerl)^  and  seemed  as 
glad  to  see  it  and  held  it  as  fondly  as  if  it  had  been  a 
nugget  from  a  gold  mine. 

Further  search  discovered  about  forty  whole  bricks 
in  the  briars  that  had  grown  around  the  willows,  which 
had  evidently  been  thrown  there  by  the  man  who  origi- 
nall}^  cleared  the  land.  I  brought  one  of  them  home  with 
me  and  have  it  now  as  an  invaluable  keepsake — a  re- 
minder of  the  days  of  "auld  lang  syne." 

We  then  went  to  the  spring — one  of  the  splendid  sort 
that  abounds  in  the  Waldo  Hills — and  after  all  but  my 


FIFTY  YEARS  IN  OREGON  535 

father  had  lain  down,  full  length,  on  the  ground  and 
partaken  of  its  sparkling  water,  I  said: 

"Now,  father,  it  is  your  turn." 

But  he  objected,  saying  he  was  too  old  to  get  in  that 
position  for  a  drink.  We  insisted  upon  it,  however, 
finally  taking  him  and  laughingly  forcing  him  to  his 
knees,  when  he  stretched  out  in  the  old-fashioned  way 
and  drank  heartily.  When  he  had  risen,  I  asked  him  if 
it  tasted  natural,  and  he  said  : 

"Yes,  it  does.  That's  mighty  good  water,  but  fifty 
years  is  a  long  time  l)etween  drinks,  isn't  it?" 

Many  times  since  I  have  rejoiced  that  we  made  that 
trip  to  the  old  place,  for  within  less  than  a  year  after- 
ward my  father  passed  away. 

The  pioneers  of  the  Waldo  Hills  have  organized  an  asso- 
ciation which  meets  annually  in  June  in  a  beautiful  oak 
grove  on  the  farm  of  John  Hunt,  where  in  reminiscent 
vein  the  old  times  are  rehearsed  and  old  associations 
renewed. 

I  attended  their  meeting  a  year  or  two  ago,  driving 
out  from  Salem  with  L.  H.  McMahon,  a  well-known 
attorney  of  the  capital  and  a  friend  of  long  standing. 
Naturally,  we  were  called  upon  for  short  talks  and,  to 
my  misfortune,  I  was  named  first.  In  order  to  open  the 
way  well,  I  proceeded  to  apologize  to  the  people,  with  all 
of  whom  we  were  well  acquainted,  for  coming  out  with 
McMahon,  explaining  that  tliere  seemed  no  other  way 
at  hand,  told  a  humorous  story  or  two  at  the  expense 
of  the  lawyers,  and  turned  my  attention  to  the  memory 
of  the  Waldo  Hills  pioneers  who  had  passed  away, 
speaking  briefly  of  their  virtues  and  devotion  to  the 
new  country  they  had  found  in  the  Great  West.  I  men- 
tioned several  of  them  by  name,  and  closed  by  paying  a 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  my  uncle.  Ralph  C.  Geer,  as  a 
man  esteemed  by  all  his  acquaintances,  noted  for  his 
enterprise  and  hospitality,  etc. 

McMahon    followed   with   a   running   fire   of   humor, 


53*5  FIFTY  YEAF<S  IN  OREGON 

applied  locally,  which  was  generally  appreciated,  and 
then  turned  his  batteries  toward  me  in  this  wise : 

"Mr.  Geer  has  dwelt  in  an  entertaining  manner  upon 
the  character  of  many  of  our  departed  pioneers,  all  of 
whom  you  knew  and  all  of  whom  I  knew,  as  a  boy  and 
man.  I  especially  appreciated  what  he  said  of  Uncle 
Ralph  Geer.  He  was  a  fine  man,  a  great  help  to  this 
section  of  the  State  and  a  man  who  initiated  many  val- 
uable business  enterprises.  But  do  you  know,  when  I 
recall  his  many  good  qualities.  I  am  impressed  with  the 
notion  that  the  Geer  family  is  like  a  good  hill  of  potatoes 
■ — the  best  part  of  it  is  under  the  ground!" 

In  my  tw-enty  years'  public  speaking  in  Oregon,  upon 
all  possible  subjects  and  occasions,  I  have  experienced  a 
thousand  instances  of  give-and-take  repartee,  sometimes 
holding  my  own  and  often  getting  the  worst  of  it.  but 
this  retort  of  McMahon's  was  as  good  as  I  ever  "met  up" 
with. 

As  I  lay  dowai  my  pen,  ready  once  more  to  turn  my 
face  to  the  future,  I  instinctively  pause  and  listen  for  the 
voices  of  the  departed  pioneers,  whose  lives  were  given 
largely  that  the  younger  generation  might  have  homes 
in  peace  and  plenty  in  a  land  favored  of  God.  Added 
and  grownng  responsibilities  are  leaving  their  stooped 
forms  and  settling  upon  us  who  have  followed  in  their 
footsteps.  The  magnitude  of  the  gift  in  a  measure 
lightens  the  burden  and  the  performance  of  duty  only  is 
required  to  make  our  State  a  land,  so  far  as  a  mere 
human  habitation  may  ever  become,  where 

Rocks  and  hills  and  brooks  and  vales 
With  milk  and  honey  flow. 


14  DAY  USE 

MTURN  TO  ^TO,,w^BORROWED 
This  book!  dSol  thll  Jwi  JEr        j  . 


i!N_22j664lRC|| 


m,  crs.    MAY  3  0  1981 


hntonill 


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(F7763sl0)476B 


.General  Library 

University  of  CaUfornia 

Berkeley 


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